


Give and Take

by congejk



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I want more Yen being a mother, M/M, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pirates, Yearning, elves are small, its dragon age rules not LOTR rules, so i'll write it myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congejk/pseuds/congejk
Summary: Laine has been a pirate for as long as she can remember. After becoming captain of her own ship, she's trying to keep control of her crew as well as make sense of the nightmares that plague her. Burying herself in women and drink to hide from the horrors of her past. A deal with a sorceress and a Witcher will bring her to face her past.
Relationships: Cerys an craite/original female character, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt gets to the top of the stairs in the hovel that Triss is currently living in. The room that he steps into is so dark, you would hardly think it was midday, the hastily boarded up windows keep out both bad weather and prying eyes. The filth that surrounds him is so unfitting of the woman walking in front of him, it’s a testament to how far the situation has fallen for mages and non-humans in Novigrad. The woman in question, Triss Merigold, moves herself to lean against a desk. Her arms cross in front of her as she thinks over the meeting they’ve just had in the fish market.

“So, we need to find a way to get Vegelbud’s son to safety. Get him out of the party from right under the witch hunter’s noses.” Triss sighs, the stress of the rising tensions in Novigrad is beginning to show in the crease of her forehead.

“Is there anywhere that you can think that would accept him, somewhere he would be safe? If we know where we’re taking him, then we can focus on how we’re getting him there.” This isn’t Geralt’s expertise, but he hopes that he can herd her to the right conclusion.

Triss sighs, looking at the map beside her on the desk. “I have connections in Kovir, but that means he’ll have to be taken by sea.”

“Probably not a bad thing, a journey by sea seems less risky than a trip across land.” Geralt agrees.

She shakes her head, “it would be better if we didn’t have to re-enter the city at all.”

Geralt shrugs, “at least if you put him on a ship you can wash your hands of him sooner, you have a ship handy?”

Triss chuckles, smiling wryly at him, “you know very well that I don’t have a ship Geralt.” Her expression becomes unsure. “but I do know of a ship captain.”

“A ship captain that will help us?” her nervous energy tells him that this is more than a simple ship captain.

“A pirate.”

“You wanna ask a pirate to smuggle Albert Vegelbud out of Novigrad?” Geralt’s voice is thick with disbelief. “he’s more likely to hold him ransom, or just hand him over to the witch hunters and collect the bounty himself.”

Triss’ head is shaking, “ _she_ is an elf with a ship full of non-humans, the only reason I met her is because she hires mages, she’s well known among the underground mage community. She’s good people…” her voice ends in a high pitch, and Geralt isn’t sure she’s entirely convinced of that herself. “I’ve tried a few times to hire her to smuggle large groups of mages out of the city, but she’s refused every time. But maybe she’ll be more amicable if it’s just one mage? I’ll have the crowns from Vegelbud to pay her well this time.” She looks deep in thought.

Geralt looks surprised, “A non-human, female pirate captain? Not exactly common.”

“Geralt, I don’t really think a pirate cares much what is and isn’t common. Though I’ve heard from people that have worked for her that she’s ruthless, doesn’t take shit from anyone.” She sighs, “besides, we’re smuggling mages, it’s not exactly legal. Who better to ask then a criminal?” she asks with a shrug.

Geralt nods, acquiescing. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Her ship docked a few days ago, we should probably talk to her first mate. He likes me, so he’ll probably tell me what their current plans are. I don’t want to approach Laine until we have a solid plan in place.” she furrows her brow as she speaks, looking worried.

“Tell me before you approach her, I don’t want you talking to her alone.” Geralt says, his tone firm.

Triss’ eyes get a little soft at his words. “she won’t hurt me, I know that.”

“Don’t care. Tell me before you go.”

She smiles a little, “okay. Do you want to come with me to talk to Odin too?” Geralt nods shortly and she continues, “There’s only two places he’ll be; in the market restocking the ship, or in the sturgeon getting drunk.”

******

“That dwarf was flirting with you.” Geralt sounds unamused, though Triss supposes that it’s no different to his usual cadence, she makes an effort not to read too much into it. They finished with Odin, Laine’s good natured dwarven first mate, in the golden sturgeon, and were currently making their way through the backstreets of Novigrad. Triss is sure to keep her hood up and the pair stay away from populated areas.

“He always flirts with me, I’ve learned to use it to my advantage, they’re leaving tomorrow afternoon and planning to restock in Kovir. Now we just have to convince Laine to postpone their departure for midnight, and to bring Albert along.”

Geralt looks at the position of the sun, “getting close to sundown, where would we find her?”

Triss snorts, “doesn’t matter what time of day, she’ll be at the Passiflora; drinking, playing cards, or sampling the local talent.”

Geralt levels her with a look, “you’re kidding me.”

Triss smirks, “there are taverns she can’t go to anymore because the husbands that frequent them would try and run her through with a sword on sight.”

Geralt grins, “are we sure this isn’t just Dandelion with fake ears and wearing women’s clothes?”

Triss lets out a tinkling laugh, “if it were Dandelion in women’s clothes, she’d be much more agreeable. Besides, there are some things that are hard to fake.”

“Tits?”

Triss rolls her eyes “Reputation.”

Night has well and truly fallen by the time they arrived at the Passiflora, the lights from inside are burning prettily through the textured glass. The door is closed to keep out the chill, but the sound of revelry can still be heard from the outside.

The place is in full swing when they step through the door; scantily clad women dance in every corner and hang around the shoulders of drunken men playing cards. Drinks are flowing and there are even more barely dressed women running from table to table, frantically serving drinks to patrons who seem to drink them faster than they can be refilled.

Triss looks around the room, but the woman she seeks mustn’t be in the room, because she looks slightly put out. Instead she drags Geralt over to the lady of the house, Madame Serenity, who looks surprised to see the two of them in her establishment.

“Miss Merigold, and Geralt of Rivia, what can I do for the two of you?” she’s scrutinizing Triss who, seemingly used to this from the madam, seems to hold herself a little more stiffly.

“we’re looking for Laine, is she here tonight?”

Serenity sighs, crossing her arms and fixing Triss with a stern, motherly glare. “course she’s here, she’s with one of the girls, taking a break from playing cards. I’m telling you Merigold, you bother that young woman- “

Geralt huffs in surprise, gaining the attention of the two women, “you seem protective of her, why would you be so happy to have a pirate hanging around your establishment?”

The older woman shrugs, though doesn’t seem offended, “The Captain is a regular, when she docks, she spends a _lot_ of coin here. She’s respectful of the women and drinks like a fiend. Stays here for weeks on end, as she doesn’t have permanent lodging in the city. She pays nightly, not in advance; and I don’t want you driving her business out of here.” She looks around at the rabble inhabiting the brothel, “she’s also free security, she might start a few brawls, but she finishes them without much of a fuss. Drives troublemakers out of here, so don’t either of you bother her, or you’ll have me to answer to!”

Triss looks properly chastised, even Geralt is feeling well told off, the woman has a way about her that makes you feel like you’re being told off by your mother.

“I’ll behave, promise.” Triss gives the woman an innocent look, which Geralt knows often means she’s lying through her teeth, but it seems to convince Serenity, who gives a hurrumph and a short nod.

There’s the sound of irregular footsteps on the stairs that gathers the small group’s attention. A human woman with thick black hair saunters down, she’s grinning from ear to ear and is leading a caramel-skinned elven woman by the hand. The elf has long tresses of wild, curly, chocolate brown hair, tattoos down her arms, and golden rings adorning her long, pointed ears, her hands also adorned with copious rings, with gold bangles hanging from her wrists.

The elf, who Geralt guesses is Laine, is smirking at the human woman. The dark-haired girl stands several inches taller than the elf, who slowly brings a hand to her waist. She then reaches down to grab the human’s hand, bringing it up to her mouth and placing a kiss on the woman’s knuckles, the girl’s fair skin coloring by several shades at the gesture.

The human then leans down and whispers something into the pirate’s ear, who then smirks, Geralt doesn’t catch what’s been said.

“She also tips the girls very well, so you’d be mighty unpopular if anything untoward occurred and you drove her out.” Geralt turns to see a satisfied smile on Serenity’s face as she watches what’s happening. 

The elf watches the human woman move towards the bar, eyes directly on her ass, before turning and joining a somewhat private corner table to face a portly man. she brings a deck of cards out of her bosom and begins to shuffle them. The man, Geralt can tell from one look that he’s sewer slime, looks at the elf like someone has just given him an early birthday gift. 


	2. Chapter 2

The night is getting late when Laine gathers her cards for the fourth time this night, pulling her winnings towards her and shepherding it directly into a coin purse that is then placed immediately into her bosom. The man sitting across from her eyes the movement, the tense lines in his face softening somewhat as his attention is drawn to her chest, trying to sneak a peek while her hands readjust the too-small tunic.

Several women hanging around the table eye the pirate too, their eyes not paying mind to the shape of her ears in favour of her breasts and what’s now between them.

Laine, however, isn’t paying her full attention to any of the men and women who are focused on her. Instead, her eyes stray to a familiar face, and one she hasn’t seen before. The sorceress, a continuous annoyance of hers over the past year or so, stands in the corner opposite her. This time however, she isn’t alone, a built man with white hair and cat-like eyes stands by her side.

They’re both eyeing her, one with trepidation, the other with suspicion. They haven’t noticed her looking at them, though she’s been stealing subtle glances at them throughout most of the game, they’ll likely take the opportunity to corner her now that the game is done.

Triss Merigold, a sorceress of considerable power, has been approaching her often over the past few years. Every time she’s in Novigrad, Triss will track her down at the Passiflora, or whatever brothel or tavern she’s staying in, buy her a few drinks then try and hire her as a smuggler for the mages. In the past the sorceress has tried getting her drunk and seducing a deal out of her, then tried appealing to her sensibilities, and when that ultimately went nowhere, turned to guilt tripping. Laine, however, has never found the proposal to be worth the risk.

The appearance of the Witcher, one that she’s clearly hired for his muscle, lends to the conclusion that she’s decided to take a different approach this time.

She struggles to hide a smirk. The pirate in her is almost impressed. Alas, it’s time for a diversion, there’s no way she can take a Witcher in a fight. Only a few seconds have passed and now the man she’s faced in gwent, the man she’s basically just robbed blind, is speaking to her. He’s an ugly fuck, the women here have told her that he beats his wife, then comes here when she won’t fuck him afterwards. Then he’s rough with the girls as a way to get his frustration out. She certainly didn’t choose this table on accident; her human companion had whispered to which table he sat as she gave her farewell.

Now he’s got his beady little eyes set on her and he looks mean as a snake. His second chin wobbles as he tries to calm his shaking, put on a charming smirk, but his eyes betray him.

“Sorry love, did you say something.” She bats her eyes at him and throws her feet up on the table, pushing her tits out, baiting him into doing something stupid, give her a reason to make a fool of him.

“You and I, we could discuss that coin you’ve stolen from me somewhere a little more private, maybe you could let me in on some of your… secrets.” His eyes rove over her chest, she’s unsure whether he’s looking at her tits or trying to locate her coin purse.

“Oh dear” she simpers, painting the picture of a contrite young virgin, “I’d love that, I really would. Unfortunately, my room will be occupied tonight, isn’t that right Marie?” She raises her eyebrows at a young blonde human who’s been watching her play cards all night, ensuring her ale is always full and brushing up against her whenever she gets an opportunity. The young girl colors delightfully at the attention and Laine’s smile grows more sincere as she looks upon the woman.

“Besides,” her smile turns sour as she turns back to look at the portly man, “what kind of accusations are you making? The idea that I would even _bother_ cheating against a gentleman of your… skill level.”

The man bristles, and Laine sees movement out of the corner of her eye, it seems the Witcher has started moving towards them. The sorceress, however, has a hand on his arm and is whispering to him. So quiet, even Laine’s pointed ears can’t hear what’s being said across the room. Though both of their faces show discontent. She feels her muscles tense, between the man across from her and the pair’s attention, she can’t help but feel slightly trapped in the crowded tavern.

“Plenty of room for three.” The man across from her has stretched himself out, his arms taking up half the table now, his charming smile turning to something more resembling a sneer, his voice having taken on a growly quality, “I won’t suffer being robbed by a knife-eared pirate wench. So maybe you, me, and the whore can have a little fun.”

Something about his words ignites something in her and the next second, in a move so fast it’s done before she can truly think through the consequences of her actions, her feet hit the floor and her dagger is pulled from the sheath on her waist and plunged directly into the man’s hand, pinning him to the table.

His cry of pain brings the revelry in the immediate vicinity to an end, those lingering around the table begin to shuffle elsewhere, trying to remove themselves from what’s clearly trouble in the making. All traces of civility are gone from her expression as she fixes him with a glare and reveals the greatest weapon in her arsenal, the surety that she will always be underestimated by those around her.

She can see the brothel owner, Serenity, is eagle-eyed as she looks towards the disturbance. Laine likes the Passiflora, and doesn’t want to get herself kicked out, so she vows to deal with this quickly and try not to make too much of a mess of it.

Turning back to the swine who’s being held in place under her knife, she leans close to him, his eyes wide as he stares in shock at the hilt of the dagger embedded in his flesh.

“you’re going to apologize-” she sees that he’s staring at the knife is his hand, not looking at her, so she twists it slightly, drawing a pitiful and strangled whimper from the man as his eyes shoot up in her direction. “ _you_ are going to apologize to the lady, and then you’ll pay for your drinks and leave without a fuss, or I’m going to feed you your own ball sack. Am I clear?”

The man stutters, looking more like a frightened little boy then the confident man from before, then nods frantically and for far too long. She widens her eyes in expectation as he seems to start hyperventilating, causing him to jerk his head up to look up at Marie, who’s still standing behind her. “I’m sorry miss, I meant no disrespect, I swear it.” His voice is breathy and panicked, and Laine feels a flutter of something pleasant in her stomach at the wavering in his voice, and she can’t stop her mouth from tilting upwards ever so slightly.

Without another word, she wrenches the knife out of his hand. He wastes no time shooting up, throwing what’s left of his coin purse down onto the table and running to the door, his bleeding hand held tightly to his chest.

The door slams behind him and Laine closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in her residual anger. Once she feels her ears relax, she takes a subtle look around the room, noting that the little brawl didn’t catch as much attention as she thought it might have. The immediate surrounding patrons, however, are eyeing her with alarm and hissing whispers about savage elves and unstable pirates.

The girls working simply roll their eyes and continue whatever they were doing prior, used to her temper by now. Marie sits herself down on top of the table in front of Laine, a soft smile on her face, Laine immediately schools her expression into one of smug indifference as she sends the human girl a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.

“you’re a good person you know…” she nudges Laine with her foot as she speaks.

The pirate huffs slightly, shooting the blonde a look of mock frustration, “think whatever you want, so long as you don’t go spreading that nonsense around, alright?”

Laine gathers the coin on the table and places it all back in the man’s purse, then grabs Marie’s hand, caressing it gently as she places it in her palm. “Now you go on to the lady and give her my best apologies for the blood stains and the divot in the table.” She winks as she says it and watches as that blush darkens the girl’s skin, eyes following her rear end as she walks off.

She turns slightlywhen she hears two sets of footsteps approaching from behind, her ears twitching as they get closer, revealing that the Witcher and the Sorceress are now standing in front of her. The former has his arms crossed over his chest, stance wide and a look of displeasure on his face, she wonders if that’s the only face he can make.

She ignores him, focusing instead on Triss, throwing on another confident smirk as she watches the woman. “Why Miss Merigold, I’ve been in the city nearing a week, I’d wondered if you’d finally given up on me.” she purrs.

The white haired Witcher grumbles, “Quite the show you put on there.”

She turns her attention to him and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t much care for rotting pigs who bully women trying to make an honest living.”

He shrugs at her words, “not sure I’d call piracy an honest living.”

“Wasn’t talking about me.” she says shortly. She’s frustrated to find she can’t puzzle out whether or not he approves of her actions. Her next thought is that she’s not sure why she cares what he thinks.

“I’ve been busy, only heard that you made port a few days ago, wanted to talk to you about something.” Triss’ voice is as calm and friendly as always, not betraying her obvious intimidation tactics.

Laine sighs and gestures to the seats across from her, turning towards the bar and gesturing to Marie and Serenity, who stand watching their table with obvious trepidation. She checks to ensure there are no prying ears in the vicinity, finding none close enough to eavesdrop she turns back to her company, who are sitting rather stiffly.

She raises an eyebrow in question, “Three guesses as to what this is about. You should _really_ loosen up Merigold, change your tune, you’re becoming predictable.” She pauses as two tankards of ale and a chalice of wine are placed in front of them by a silent Marie, who leaves them be without a word a moment later. Laine takes a long drink before placing the tankard down on the table, before gesturing lazily to the Witcher.

“The intimidation tactics are new though, really not your style love, I’m actually a little proud of you.” She ends with a wry smirk.

Triss chokes a little on her wine, “intimidation? No! Geralt is a good friend, he’s just accompanying me tonight.”

Laine sends the Witcher a skeptical look and then shrugs, gesturing lazily, “talk away then.”

“Right, so I know you’ve told me you won’t ferry mages before, but I wanted to ask if you would consider just taking…one.” Triss’ voice reveals that she’s nervous, meaning there’s more to this request than meets the eye.

“Can I ask after the identity of this mage?” Laine’s eyes are narrowed and her ears are flat against her dark hair.

Triss looks uncomfortable before she answers lowly, “Alchemist actually, Albert Vegelbud.”

“No.”

“Captain.” Triss’ voice sounds exasperated, her companion’s expression has gotten even more icy if possible, as if he’s daring her to deny the request.

“I’m sorry, you’ve been trying to convince me to ferry mages for how long? And now you want to waste my goodwill on that spoilt rotten, peacock of a man, who flaunts his interest in the arcane for fun while mages and non-humans are being burnt alive in this shit-hole of a city. While he sits protected by his parent’s fortune in his ivory estate?” Her voice is disbelieving. “surely there’s a mage that’s more deserving of safe passage then that little fuck.” Laine narrows her eyes and points “And don’t call me captain because I know you’re just trying to butter me up.”

Triss looks a little defeated now, fixing her with a pleading gaze, “I know he’s not exactly the picture of mage sufferage, but his family are pledging to help us, make a donation to help me help even more mages. He’s just young, doesn’t understand the consequences of his actions, all I need is for you to get him to Kovir in one piece.”

“He’s as young as I am, being raised on a silver spoon doesn’t give him a pass for acting like a little shit.” Laine sighs, downing the rest of her Ale. Another is placed in front of her a few seconds later. Taking a break from the intensity of the gazes currently placed on her, she turns and stops Marie from retreating with a hand hooked around her hip.

“I’ll just be a short while love, then I’ll meet you in my room, yeah?” she levels a smirk at the blonde, who nods, sending a suspicious look at her two guests before walking off. She doesn’t leave the room however, moving back over to the bar and watching the proceedings with a sharp gaze that looks out of place on her angelic face.

She turns back to the pair, Triss looking hopefully expectant, Geralt however is distracted. His eyes are staring at the table, or maybe at the hand she had grabbed Marie with, she puts it out of her mind when a thought suddenly overtakes her.

“How do you know I’m even sailing to Kovir?” She sends a suspicious glance in the older woman’s direction as evasion suddenly makes its home on her face.

“We… might have run into Odin on our way here, who told us you were setting sail tomorrow… which is perfect because tomorrow night is when we’ll be moving Albert!” Triss’ eyes won’t meet hers; Laine hypothesizes that the meeting may not have been as chance as is being described.

“That man’s infatuation with you is going to bite me in the arse one day.” She chuckles, smiling slightly in spite of herself, she takes another long drink to avoid answering a little longer.

“Laine, please.”

“Miss Merigold, I am a pirate, _not_ a chauffeur.” She places her tankard down firmly on the table.

“and you’ll be compensated, _handsomely_. You can even put him to work, he’s just cargo that needs to get to Kovir, relatively unscathed. There’ll be someone waiting for him on the docks.” Triss is done with games, now she’s giving the hard sell.

Laine weighs the options and finds the only thing lacking is her conscience. “Fine. When am I to receive this.... cargo?”

Triss’ eyes widen in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting Laine to be convinced. The pirate finishes her ale before pushing the tankard away from her, not liking how unsteady she feels, then leans herself onto the table to talk business.

“midnight tomorrow night, there’s a party that will serve as a distraction and then we’ll bring him straight to you, but it’s imperative that you’re ready to set sail as soon as we get there. The witch hunters are interested in him already and we don’t want to tempt fate.”

Laine wipes a hand over her face and levels a glare at the sorceress. “you understand that I have a ship full of non-humans and mages? You’re asking me to put my crew at risk.”

Geralt pipes up at that, “a risk you’re being compensated for. Isn’t your line of work risky enough? What difference does it make?”

She sends them a searching gaze before standing, nodding to the pair, “fine, The Plague Maiden will be ready to sail at midnight. Payment in advance.”

At that she stands, turning her back to the pair and singles out her prize for tonight, Marie meets her halfway to the stairs with a bottle of spirit and Laine takes her hand as she leads her up the stairs.


	3. chapter 3

_Laine can feel herself being pulled every which way. The moment she begins to get her bearings, she’s yanked again, in a totally different direction. She feels like somethings about to burst out of her chest, a scream, or is someone else screaming?_

_“Elle! Ella! Sweetie, where are you! …Elle!”_

_She looks around for the owner of the distraught voice but she can’t see, all she sees are legs as tall as trees that are blurred for how fast she’s being yanked. There’s the sound of the sea that’s beginning to drown out the voice that’s still calling for Elle, for Ella. But it’s getting more and more faint as she’s pulled further and further away. The waves getting louder and louder until she feels like the sound is swallowing her whole._

_The heat is sticky and there’s a hand that feels even hotter clamped around her wrist. The voice is all but whispers now, the sea is the only thing she can hear, the creaking of a boat and the sway of a ship beneath her._

_The swaying is becoming even more disorientating than the yanking, so disorientating that it threatens to wake her._

Laine shoots up in bed suddenly, her eyes blinking away sleep, her wrist still feeling abnormally warm. She looks down to see her hand trapped beneath a head of Blonde hair, the face of her bedmate hidden under the covers of the bed she’s been renting while she’s been in the city.

As she slowly comes back to reality, she can feel the hangover beginning to take her over. The pounding of her head and the dryness of her throat, it’ll surely overwhelm her when she finally finds it in herself to rise.

She frees her hand gently from under the woman’s head, revealing the black chord that holds the raven’s head pendant wrapped several times around her wrist. Once a necklace, she’d had the piece ever since she could remember, she carried it from her slave days to her captaincy. She considers it’s a good luck charm, a symbol of who she could be, rather than who her old captain tried to turn her into.

Never truly knowing where she came from, it doggs her every step, always sitting in the back corner of her mind. She doesn’t know what she’s more afraid of, finally knowing who she is, or the far more likely scenario of never finding out.

It’s with a sigh that she sits up, pushing the thought out of her mind, she looks out the window to see a dark sky. It’s early, likely approaching daybreak, and she feels entirely unrested. Her body is heavier than she expects as she lifts herself, and she drops back onto the mattress. The jostling almost wakes the girl in the bed. Marie, she remembers, hopefully correctly. She turns and begins playing with the human girl’s hair, lightly massaging her scalp as she does, it has the desired effect. The girl groans lightly at the pleasant feeling and she quickly falls back to sleep without much more fuss. With a fond smile for the woman, though knowing there’s nothing left for her in the warm embrace, she stands.

She let the drink get away from her last night, a tradition she always keeps for the night before sailing. Grabbing her prepacked knapsack, she makes her way to the door quietly, sneaking one last pile of coins on the bedside as a tip for the woman before she leaves.

Making her way down to the main floor of the Passiflora, she stops as she passes the madam’s office, the woman in question is seated at her desk with a pile of paperwork in front of her. She looks up when she notices the elf in the doorway.

“Captain, you’ve awoken awfully early, I hope nothing untoward has occurred.” She looks concerned and Laine is quick to reassure her.

“Nothing at all ma’am, I’m to set sail tonight, lots to do. Apologies again for the disturbance last night.” She places a coin purse on the woman’s desk, who opens it with a frown.

“Payment, for the services and the room last night, a little extra to fix the table I damaged.” she avoids the stern woman’s gaze, nodding in her direction and moving to take her leave.

She’s stopped by the madam’s voice, warmer than she expected “you’re always welcome here captain, not many would stand up for my girls the way you do.”

Laine levels a look back at the madam, who’s eyes show sincerity, and holds back a choke in her throat. Not trusting her voice not to crack, she simply nods, continuing out the door and into the soft morning light.

Back at the docks, the sun is barely rising as she steps onto the deck of her ship, the cold chill of early morning is starting to break the stupor of hangover. She breathes deeply, taking in the smell of the sea and feeling the rock of her ship below her feet, finally home again. It’s only been a week but she’s missed the feeling.

She nods to the two morning guards, a large human man and a dwarf, and they nod back lazily. She doesn’t mind their casual greeting; she knows they’re paying attention. The man is a mage, he probably heard her coming from all the way down the docks, she knows he likes to use spells when keeping watch.

A lesser captain would demand stricter attention from their crew, but she measures her men in loyalty and skill, not how they grovel when she comes aboard.

She makes her way to her office, picking up the orders for provisions placed on her desk by Odin and reading them through, all seems to be in order. Digging further and her eyes furrow, feeling that something’s missing, she rifles through them again to make sure.

There’s no grain order, no doubt Odin had trouble with the merchant, a portly young woman who had the most ticklish inner thigh. Feeling much better than she did when she awoke, no doubt the effect of being back on her ship, she grabs a fanciful looking captain’s hat. It’s, black, far too large, and has a rather nice feather sticking out of the top that makes her feel quite proper. She places it on her head with a grin forming on her face and promptly goes to bother her first mate.

She steps out of the office with the papers in hand and flits past the guards, who barely look up from their game, heading down the stairs into the hold and towards the lodgings of her first mate. His door is placed right next to her quarters, close by in case of emergencies like this.

Not bothering to knock, she slams the door open, causing the large lump on the bed to groan and shift.

“Rise and shine, dwarf!” she lets out with a grin, earning herself a curse as the sheets jump, startled, to reveal a very naked dwarf with an equally naked halfing curled around each other.

Not phased, she moves back to lean against the doorjamb, watching her first mate catch his bearings.

“I suffer under yer reign woman, I really do.” He covers up his bedmate, who looks far more startled than Odin, the dwarf seemingly used to her shit by now.

He waves her out of the room as he rises, searching for his clothes, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he does.

She complies, laughing as she goes, moving to the kitchen to get herself a mug of coffee and giving him a few minutes to make himself decent. She makes a mug for Odin as well, who joins her after a few minutes, looking far more awake than he did a few minutes ago.

“There a reason you’re burstin’ into my chambers at the ass crack of dawn?” he grumbles, taking the mug of coffee. It’s hard to get a hold of so, rationed as it is, the mix is more like hot water with coffee flavor.

She takes a sip of hers, letting herself get lost in the taste, before throwing the papers down on the table. “we leave today, but there’s no grain shipment on here, how’s Eris supposed to make bread?” bread is the bulk of their food on a ship at sea for months at a time, grain orders are imperative, but missing from the pile.

Odin snorts, looking amused as he looks up to scrutinize her, “Ophelia were running the place yesterday, she seemed right in a huff when she saw me, said if we wanted our usual order of grain you were going to have get on your knees and beg her for it.”

Laine throws her head back, her eyes closing in frustration, “that’s what I get for sleeping with a supplier isn’t it.”

Odin laughs, taking a sip of his coffee, “that’s what you get for shitting where you eat more like. She seemed a might put out.”

She laughs in spite of herself, “well I figured you were distracted by a certain red-haired sorceress and simply forgot.”

The dwarf goes slightly red at her teasing and she raises an eyebrow at him expression becoming a little sterner.

“dwarf, the next time you give that woman information about this ship’s goings on I’ll be throwing you off it and leaving you here, am I clear?” her voice is stern as she stares him down.

“aye, well, you see she had this bodyguard with her this time and I thought there’d be no harm in-“

She interrupts his excuses, “well in any case, we’re leaving at midnight tonight and we’re taking in a bit of extra cargo before we leave.”

He looks surprised, “you’re smuggling mages? She finally wore you down then?”

She looks annoyed, “one mage, for a lot of coin… at least I’ll have time to go and speak with Ophelia, get that grain order sorted.”

Odin grins, the mood lighter than a few seconds earlier, “never took you for a groveler.”

She grabs the stack of shipment orders and heads towards the deck, not looking back as she speaks, “I charm better than I grovel anyway.”

*****

As Laine walks through Novigrad and towards Farcorners, where Ophelia’s granary is located, she watches the city wake up. She’s removed her captain’s hat for the journey, no doubt she’d attract more attention than she’d like if she dared to wear it out. There are plenty of dirty looks sent her way at the sight of her ears, and she makes an effort not to walk through hierarch square, where there’s always a body or two still smoking.

Seeing that makes her think of every time she’s declined taking mages to safety, she always wonders whether that person died because of her, she puts it out of her mind and avoids the sight.

The sea’s the only thing she knows, she loves it, but she’s always wondered what it would be like to live in one place. She can never truly relax on a ship, she’s the captain, but at any moment there could be a mutiny. She trusts her crew, but so does every captain, they wouldn’t go to sea with them otherwise. It doesn’t stop them from being shanked in their sleep, certainly didn’t stop it from happening to her old captain.

She finds some fresh bread and fruit as she walks through the markets, she grabs some while the stall vendors are turned around, too busy setting up for the day to pay enough attention. She then exits the city proper, being side eyed by the guards at the entrance. She ignores their whispering about non-humans and filth plaguing the city, continuing down the path toward her destination.

She wants to retaliate, but her life in the city is a near constant battle of picking fights and leaving those that aren’t worth the trouble, and she really doesn’t need the attention right now.

The looks and the whispers get fewer and further between the further she gets from the city center. It’s the nature of the city, and another reason she wouldn’t want to live among so many humans. The closer you get to the main populace, the more likely you are to have an accident or disappear, perhaps becoming the local entertainment in the middle of the square.

But Farcorners, dirty and distanced as it is, is a breath of proverbial fresh air. She spots several elven children who are chasing each other, one stops and waves as she passes, she sends him a conspiratorial wink. The sense of community here is astounding, something she’s never experienced before. She has no doubt that if the guards were to harass a non-human in these parts, there would be a whole community to stand up for them.

There, at the edge of Farcorners, she comes across the small granary that belongs to Ophelia and her family. Though it’s run mostly by her since her father fell ill and her brother went off to aid in the war. The woman she’s looking for is currently turned around, bent over some barrels, checking something or other.

Laine on the other hand, takes the opportunity to check on something else, the woman hasn’t changed a bit. She leans against the open gate and simply admires the human girl’s backside for a spell. She clears her throat, bracing herself for the woman’s wrath, but placing a charming smile on her face.

Ophelia may be angry, but a bit of grease in the right spots and she’ll loosen up, if the time she’s spent with the woman in the bedroom is any indication.

The girl turns slightly to address her, “be with you in a mo’” she turns back around to finish her task but then goes stiff, turning back sharply with scowl now adorning her face.

“You’ve a lot of nerve showing your face here, you worthless pirate scum.” She spits, crossing her arms and fixing her with a frightening glare, but Laine can see the hurt in her eyes.

Laine raises her hands in a placating gesture, “come on now love, no need for names, heard you were fixin’ to see me.” she places a soft, searching look on her face, acting hurt at the woman’s words.

“I told that dwarf to fuck off and I’ll tell you the same thing, you leave for months then don’t even have the nerve to face me yourself, you’ve been here long enough and haven’t come to see me. Holed up in brothels for days on end! It’s clear you never gave a shit about me.” Her voice is wavering and Laine can feel her face scrunch up, she hates when they cry.

She moves forwards slightly, though not too close or she’s liable to be accosted, “come on now love, it’s like I told you, i was born on the sea. It’s my home, and I can’t afford to make another, especially in a woman as beautiful as you. I sent Odin because the thought of having to see you again, when I know I can never have you, was far too much to bear. It was selfish, I know that, to try and save myself that pain.” She sees the woman waver slightly and then takes a chance, moving closer and placing a gentle hand on her cheek.

“Even seeing you now, I want to lock you in that hut and show you exactly how I feel about seeing you again… but I fear I have to be selfish, leaving you after that will be far too painful, and I have responsibilities. One of which is feeding the men under me, so if coming here and putting myself through this is what it takes to get the best grain in the city, I will. But know that the pain it causes me to see you, but not have you, will stay with me far longer for it.”

At the end of this speech she pulls Ophelia down and places a soft kiss upon her lips, the human woman responds with fervor, and Laine has to suppress a grin of triumph. She places a hand on her waist and uses her tongue to do that thing she knows the girl likes, the slight gasp and the woman melting in her arms is her answer. She’s aware that they’re outside, and anyone could see them, so she pulls away. Ophelia seems to chase her, but she’s firm, placing their foreheads together. “you’re so beautiful, I’d take you right now, but I won’t dishonor you in public. You’re far better than the likes of me.”

As they stare into each other’s eyes, the woman smiles sadly, Laine knows she’s got her. The woman turns around and moves into the house, returning a few moments later with a docket, “I’ll have some of the men deliver it this afternoon, you’re docked in the usual spot yeah?”

Laine smiles, taking the paper and placing it away in her tunic, drawing Ophelia’s eyes to her chest. “thank you, you don’t know how wonderful it was to see you again, but I hope you understand if I stay away. We’re from different worlds, the sea calls me and I couldn’t resist it if I wanted to, and you have responsibilities here.”

She draws forward, pulling Laine in for a bruising kiss then leans back, arms around her waist. “you’ll think of me, won’t you?”

The elf shakes her head, “Sweetness, I won’t be able to stop thinking of you.”

“well I don’t want to cause you pain, so I suppose this is goodbye for now.” She pulls away and looks to the side, taking a few steps back.

“Oh, you’re an angel, you know that?” she places the fresh fruit and bread on a plate on the table right next to a sack of payment for the order and backs away, through the gate and then leans against the fence, pushing her breast up as she does. Ophelia’s eyes move from her eyes to her bosom.

Then, putting on a look of adoration, Laine mumbles, “just getting one last look at you, for the long nights.”

At that, she pulls away and moves back towards the city, careful not to look back as she goes. As she nears the bridge to take her to the city gates, an even gaite moves up beside her, matching her pace. She tenses, expecting a guard to harass her for some imagined crime.

“Quite the performance, you’d fit right in with the mummers off hierarch square.”

She turns and grins at the sight of the Witcher walking beside her, two swords against his back, and what she swears is an amused look on his face. 

“Master Witcher, what a surprise to see you here! What gave me away?”

“Had to pick up outfits and masks for the masquerade tonight, though I despise wearing doublets.” He grumbles, though he doesn’t look too upset, “I knew because her heart was going crazy, but yours was steady the whole time. I take it you’ve had a successful morning?”

She raises her eyebrows, “got my grain delivery for the upcoming voyage, so the men will have bread to fill their bellies. Though that is the last time I plow a supplier, far too messy. Not to worry though, all’s well and ready for departure tonight.”

He huffs with laughter and they continue in comfortable silence for a time, eventually, he breaks the silence. “Were you really born at sea? It’s all you’ve ever known?”

They’re entering the city proper once more, and she heads towards the docks, he seems to forget where he’s headed and simply accompanies her.

She shrugs, “I don’t remember anything before it, my mother wasn’t really the sharing type, so she never really told me.”

He looks thoughtful, “What type was she exactly?” he looks more tense than he should for the subject matter, but she answers anyway.

“more the… forcing me to work on her ship type, the no asking questions type. She was human, so clearly not my birth mother, I suppose she bought me from slavers when I was small. But she’s the only mother I know.” She knows her voice is hard and bitter, but she can’t help it, speaking of that vile woman even now is painful. She forces herself to lighten the mood, noticing that they’ve reached the docks and her ship is in sight.

“well, I shan’t keep you with my tales of woe, I might see you tonight at the drop, yeah?”

He nods and waves her off, he has a thoughtful look on his face but doesn’t pry, she appreciates it.

She heads onto the ship and straight down to the hold, there’s no sign of Odin’s halfling friend, so she supposes he’s left. She makes her way over to where Odin sits, a tankard of something in front of him and pulls the docket from her bosom. She slams it down on the table and waggles her eyebrows, a shit-eating grin on her face, “barely any groveling required.”

He startles and takes the paper in his hands before looking up at her, “you’re a terrible person, you know that?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I told her.”

The roar of his laughter echoes through the whole ship.


	4. Chapter 4

Laine strains her pointed ears, she’s sitting in her office and waiting for any sign of the sorceresses’ arrival, they’re overdue. Her foot taps against the floor in frustration, Odin doesn’t comment on it, not willing to earn her ire.

He leaves the room and she stops the tapping for a moment, standing and moving to look out the window, it’s well past midnight. She’d come inside when she simply couldn’t stand waiting on the deck anymore.

She imagines the witch hunters taking glances at their ship, clearly ready to set sail, but staying put. They’re liable to force an inspection, where they’ll find non-humans and mages in every room, as well as some incredibly illegal cargo in the storeroom if they dig deep enough. She’s debating the merits of forgetting this Albert Vegelbud business and simply giving the order to set sail.

She sighs and, frustrated without a clear view of the harbor, makes her way out of the office and onto the deck. She peeks her head out and levels Odin with a grumpy look, he rolls his eyes, “I’d said I’d tell ye the minute something happened captain, nothing’s happened as such.”

She nods shortly and then stalks out towards the side of the ship, the crew give her a wide berth as she moves, then leans against the ship wall and uses her superior eyesight to watch for any sign of movement.

It’s then that someone steps up next to her, “fresh, straight from the furnace.” A warm loaf of flatbread is pushed into her hands. “You really ought to take better care of yourself, captain, I’ve not seen you eat all day.” It’s Eris, the ship’s cook, a petite halfling woman with a penchant for trying to mother her. Unfortunately, she has a penchant for rejecting such mothering, but tonight she’s in no state to resist.

“Thank you, Eris.” She takes a bite of the bread and relaxes as the warmth invades her senses. Once she’s calmed herself she speaks “but I’ve 12 barrels of fisstech onboard and I'm waiting on a damn mage who can’t keep her bloody appointments. The longer we’re sat here, ready to depart, the more likely the witch hunters are to get suspicious. I’m afeared that bread won’t be of any help on Temple Isle.” The tapping has started again and she feels a hand settle on top of hers.

“We all trust you; you’ll get us out of here without a fuss.”

Laine can’t help but send a genuine smile to Eris, who beams in response before wandering off, probably to distribute more flatbread to the rest of the crew. Such a sweet girl, how she convinced the woman to work for her she’ll never know.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of voices and hooves coming from the port, and her ears perk up.

“Well I’ll be, a real pirate ship, how positively rustic it is! Such fun!” the snooty voice is speaking far too loudly to be appropriate for the situation and the late hour, Laine can’t help but wince at the volume.

“This is not like your mother’s stories, Albert, keep your head down and stay quiet while I find the captain.” Triss’ voice scolds the young man.

She walks down to meet them at the docks and watches as they dismount the horses, she stands straight with her hands held behind her back, Triss moves forward to meet her with a Blonde human in tow.

“Captain, this is Albert Vegelbud, Albert, this is Captain Laine.” Triss sounds slightly nervous introducing the two.

The elf sees the human’s excited expression and frowns, straightening herself. “you’ll take orders on this ship. You’ll sleep in the hold with the rest of the men and you’ll do as you’re told, am I clear?” her voice is cold, and she sees the boy stiffen, likely not used to receiving orders from elven women.

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond. “The dwarf, Odin, is my first mate.” She gestures to the man in question, who’s got a sly grin on his face, “he’ll show you to your lodgings, go straight aboard, I need a word with miss Merigold.”

He stutters slightly, but nods, moving onto the ship without responding. The two women watch after him before turning to face each other once he’s completely out of sight.

“You’re late.” Her voice is still cold as she addresses the now sheepish looking woman.

“Sorry, the witch hunters were onto us, we had a bit of trouble. Don’t worry, they’re dead, we weren’t followed.” She looks relieved when Laine gives her a short nod of approval, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

“You’ll go easy on him, won’t you? He’s an idiot but he’s never experienced anything like this before.” Triss sounds slightly nervous, but certainly amused.

Laine finally grins at her “I’ll do no such thing, taking orders on a pirate ship will build character, and I doubt he has much of that.”

“He’s got plenty of character, just that none of it’s any good…suppose he deserves it, he spent the entire ride over trying to flirt with me, awkward when you’re riding alone through the countryside.” She’s quiet for a few moments, she seems to be debating with herself before she speaks.

“Say, we’ve known each other a while now, right? Why have you never tried anything on me? rumors would have someone believe you’ve seduced every woman in this city.” There’s a hint on insecurity in the sorceresses’ voice that makes Laine wonder as to the whereabouts of her Witcher friend. Perhaps something didn’t go according to plan tonight.

She chuckles anyway, earning her an offended look, causing her to raise her arms in surrender. “I’ve scorned a lot of beautiful women Merigold, I make a habit of not scorning those that could cook my insides on a whim. I honestly wonder how Geralt manages himself.”

Triss snorts with laughter at her words, “The bastards on thin ice. The trick is to get the woman to care enough that they _wouldn’t_ cook your insides.”

She smiles wryly at the sorceress, “if you get that far, that’s when you’re really in trouble.”

*******

The voyage is uneventful, with Albert learning very quickly to hold his tongue about all the things he’s missing, the privileges he deserves.

He’s unharmed but for the few new callouses he has on his hands. He avoids her for the most part, he attempts to speak with her a few times while she’s busy running the ship and trying to give orders. She’d eventually just pushed him almost completely over the edge of the ship with a knife against his neck, from then on, he’d go in the other direction if he saw her.

It takes a good three weeks of hard work, and she’s no closer to considering herself fond of him, but she finally drops him off in Kovir.

************

It’s a few months later that she’s back in Novigrad, she’s been in town for a week and a half and she’s deep in drink at the Passiflora. There isn’t really an end or beginning to the drinking, just ongoing. Sometimes she’ll pass out for a bit longer than normal and start over.

The Fisstech deal had gone south and she’d lost a few men, good men who’d given their lives in service of her ship. The worst part of it all, was when they’d been ambushed, captured.

A bunch of no good bandits had used them to smuggle the stuff, deciding to keep their coin and the fisstech, and slaughter them all for good measure, tying them up and searching the ship.

The horror had really started when they’d dragged Eris kicking and screaming from the hold where she’d been hiding and had pulled her into a filthy room adjacent from where they were being kept. The halfling’s screams and protests had followed her every night since.

It had lasted hours, then they’d finally left the halfling alone and started to untie her, preparing to give Laine the same treatment, teach her a lesson. The rage she’d been holding onto finally had a release and she’d slaughtered them all. She doesn’t really remember it, Odin told her after that once she’d taken on one, she’d gotten a hold of his sword and then she just went feral.

The last few men were begging for mercy as she killed them, the rest of the crew free and helping her by then. Once they were all dead, she’d moved to the other room, picked up the naked halfling in a bridal carry and taken her back to the ship.

The rest of the voyage back to Novigrad, her mood had been so stormy that none had dared cross her path or defy an order lest she kill them on sight.

When she wasn’t barking orders, she was usually found sitting in a dark corner of the kitchens, watching over Eris like a bear would watch over its cub.

The halfling, though thoroughly shaken from the experience, had recovered remarkably well from the incident. Sometimes, watching the two, it was hard to tell who was taking care of who.

The captain being handed bits of dried meat or fruit, the halfling watching to make sure she consumed them. Ensuring she drank enough water to drown out the liquor.

Odin tried endlessly to get through to her during the voyage, stopping her from pacing the ship at night, making sure she got enough sleep. But he could tell that she wasn’t truly herself.

Once they’d made port however, the captain was gone, barely seen by a soul. she’d left Odin to hire the replacements for the men they’d lost and had fucked off to get sauced. After giving everyone their share of the profits, with a hefty sum extra for Eris, who’d looked positively shocked at receiving three times her usual pay for such a voyage.

So she’d sequestered herself in the Passiflora, the only things she was good for were fucking and drinking, because clearly her strengths don’t lie in protecting her men. Not that she’d been doing any fucking, come to think of it.

She’s sitting in a dark corner, only because they stopped serving her drink in the comfort of her own room, and brooding quietly. Some of the girls look annoyed that she’s not paying them any attention, she continues to ignore them, drinking deeply from her tankard of ale. In no time, it’s empty again, she could have sworn she’d just had it filled.

There’s a presence next to her and she raises her eyes to see Marie, the blonde she’d plowed a few months back, the night before she’d last left. The human is looking at her with sad eyes, likely because Laine’s been here a week and has barely spent a copper on her or the other girls, only the occasional tip for drink service.

She looks away, pushing the empty tankard towards her, to signify that it’s empty, and the girl looks disappointed.

All these women want from her is her coin, she’s flush with it after the whole deal had finally worked itself out, finding another buyer for the fisstech and looting the dead bandits. She raises an eyebrow in question at the girl who’s still just sat on the edge of the table, staring at her.

“I think you should slow down, the madam’s getting worried.”

Laine looks over and sees Madam Serenity looking over at her table with apprehension, she doesn’t blame her, having someone with her temper as drunk as she is in her establishment. Is there anything she touches that doesn’t break?

The blonde grimaces with disgust when a handful of coin is pushed across the table towards her, “I don’t want your coin, is everything alright? You’ve barely spoken all week, barely left your room, you just drink... what’s happened?”

She pushes herself up, standing unsteadily on her feet like a damn baby deer, “you won’t take my coin, I’ll take my business elsewhere.” She mumbles darkly.

She hears a few exclamations as she leaves the Passiflora, but she pays them no mind, making her way towards the docks. She’ll head to The Golden Sturgeon, or maybe Crooked Kates. Though what’s the point of going to another brothel when the thought of sex has her reliving the memories of Eris’ screams and her own nights spent in the captain’s quarters as a young girl.

Captain Reynolds put her in the same situation that she’d placed Eris, of course, Laine wasn’t the offender. But what does that matter when she’s the one who put the girl in danger in the first place? Poor sweet Eris.

She leans over to puke in a bush and thinks she hears footsteps behind her, her ears twitch but can’t seem to get an idea of where they’re coming from. She snorts to herself in laughter, she’s walking through the middle of Novigrad, there’s bound to be footsteps from every direction.

She doesn’t know how long it’s been since she left the Passiflora. She sees the Sturgeon and crinkles her nose as she tries to think of why going there is a bad idea. She racks her brain but can’t seem to find the answer in her inebriated brain.

It dawns on her too late.

“No mistaking this one, dark skin, pointed ears. Filthy pirate wench used witchcraft to attract my lady, I’ll show her exactly what happens to witches in this town.”

She doesn’t have the reflexes to stop the kick that sends her straight down to the muddy ground. She lifts herself up, feeling like she’s stuck in a bottle, laughter echoing in her head. Before she can lift herself, there’s another kick to her abdomen, sending her straight back down.

This attack is like a shot of adrenaline to her and her head clears a fraction. Not clear enough to defend herself, but enough that she can hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed somewhere in the distance. There’s the sound of fighting for a minute, tops, before the sound of metal hitting metal stops.

She gets herself up onto her hands and knees before there’s a heavily armoured hand in her line of vision.

“Captain.” There’s no mistaking that tone, or total lack of one. Grabbing the hand, Geralt, Triss’ Witcher friend, pulls her to her feet.

“Hey! Witcher.” She snorts, leaning against him. He’s looking down at her furiously, or maybe neutrally, it’s hard to tell with him.

“Any particular reason you’re drunkenly walking around near taverns you’re not welcome in?” he tries to place a hand on her rib cage and she lashes out moving to strike him and stepping back. He lets her go, but stays close, hands hovering in case she tips over.

“Don’t need your help.” She mumbles, deciding to head straight back to the ship, hoping that the swaying of the sea will counteract the swaying in her head.

“No, but I need yours, need you sober for that.” He grunts, herding her in the opposite direction and towards the Sturgeon. She’s not coherent enough to stop him, so she allows him to lead her where he wants.

He sits her down and her head immediately finds a home in her arms, feeling way too heavy. There’s water and food placed in front of her a few moments later and he pushes it towards her, glaring at her until she grabs a piece of meat and starts eating.

They sit in silence for a good long while, her mind slowly clearing as time passes, eventually the haze over the room clears.

The first thing she notices is the men in every corner of the room glaring at their table, she looks over them all, naming each of their wives in her mind and thinking of the thing that made them each tick. She can’t help but smirk slightly, making the man she’s currently looking at surge forward slightly, only held back by his friends.

The next thing she notices is the Witcher across from her who’s acting like ass hole repellent, his stormy expression keeping everyone clear of a four-foot radius, clearly stopping aforementioned ass holes from collecting on whatever debt they see fit as payment for not being able to satisfy their own women.

He notices her return to lucidity and raises an eyebrow in her direction. She leans back, “so, how much do I owe you? For what happened out there.”

He shakes his head, “Went looking for you, your first mate said something happened on your trip and they hadn’t seen you in a week and a half. Went to the Passiflora, they said you’d been acting strange, then you’d left abruptly. Followed the scent of ale and found you being attacked.” He pauses, almost as if to calm himself, “You don’t owe me anything, but I do need your help, need to get to Skellige.”

She snorts, “I don’t think I'm welcome in Skellige.” She puts down some more bread, trying to soak up the alcohol, then chugs some water.

“For the same reasons you’re not welcome here?” he looks around at the glaring faces around them.

She shrugs, “more or less, only difference is, it’s the women who’ll come after me over there.”

He leans back, chuckling a little, “Well I’m willing to pay. What’s your price?”

She thinks for a long moment, she’s had a trade agreement with Skellige for years, but each clan operates differently. It’s a risky trip. Not exactly something she needs right now.

“How long do you need to be there?” she asks, playing with the bracelet on her hand to avoid looking at him.

“That’s the thing, don’t know. Looking for someone important to me, need to look in Skellige, I'm meeting someone whose been investigating for a while. I’ll stay long enough to make sure the person I'm looking for isn’t there.” There’s a conviction in his eyes, with a hint of something else, his eyes keep flitting down to her bracelet and back to her face.

She nods, “what the hell, 1000 crowns for there and back, maybe I can make a profit over there somehow. Not like I’ve got any jobs lined up here.”

He leans back, an actual smile gracing his face. Then nods towards the door, “you need to go and see your crew, they’re worried about you.”

She nods, standing and placing a few coins down on the table, before turning to leave. She throws back, “We’ll cast off at dawn. Be there.” And departs, far steadier on her feet than when she came in.

She makes her way back onto the ship and goes down to the hold and straight into the kitchen, stopping when she sees Odin sitting at one of the bar stools, she continues in without speaking. She can see him stop eating as she comes into view, just staring as she makes coffee, a full dose this time.

“You’re back with us then? Get it out of your system?” he seems a mix between frustrated and concerned as he crosses his arms and stares at her.

She shrugs, “got a job, we’re leaving in the morning.”

He nods, “aye, the Witcher came round asking about you, we’re off to Skellige then?”

She nods, taking the now boiled water from the fire and pouring it into her coffee, she takes a sip. Sitting in an uncomfortable silence, she can see him mulling over the best way to approach whatever he’s thinking, deciding to make it easy for him she heads to the door.

His voice stops her before she can leave.

“We were all worried you know, you can’t just leave like that, not after what happened… losing Mack and Bertie. Eris’ been beside herself, we’re not just a crew, we’re a family. We need to lean on each other. Not have you wander off to do whatever you do for weeks at a time. That’s not the kind of captain this crew needs” He sounds extraordinarily frustrated with her; it instantly pushes her buttons.

“Well like it or not, I am your captain, and you’re not my father.” She spits out.

He sighs, “you’re a good kid, and a great captain, but you can’t hold the weight of the world on your shoulders lass. What happened wasn’t your fault, we got out of there because of you, those whoresons would have slaughtered us if you hadn’t overpowered them. Your anger is powerful, it has a place on the battlefield, but it’s not worth letting it rule you.”

She stares at him, the open look on his face, and crumples. “I should have known it was a setup, we wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me. Eris should never have been in that situation in the first place, that’s on me.”

Odin looks sad at her words, shaking his head, “I know it’s a soft spot for you, but you need to talk to her, she needs support right now. What she doesn’t need, is you acting like her guard dog, then turning and running at the first sight of dry land.”

She nods, “I’ll talk to her. Thanks, Odin.” Her voice is soft and she actually feels a smile tilt her lips.

He nods, eyes soft, and she leaves the kitchens.

She finds the halfling a few hours later in the store room, the sun is finally rising, and she’s organizing provisions for their voyage.

“Eris, can I’ve a word?” her voice is unsure as the halfling whips around, she was never this jumpy before, Laine feels a twinge of guilt in her gut but pushes it down. This isn’t about her.

“Oh captain, of course! I’m glad to see you’re alright.” She lifts herself onto a box of provisions and looks at Laine with a smile. The elf takes the box adjacent and looks at the halfling in front of her.

“I’m fine, Eris, thank you. We’ll be departing for Skellige in a few hours, you probably know, I wanted to tell you that you needn’t come along if you don’t wish to.” Her ears droop as she speaks and she averts her eyes from the smaller woman.

There’s silence, before Eris’ timid voice peeks out, “captain, am I being let go? I like this job and I’m not sure I’d find another—” her voice is becoming panicked, and Laine quickly moves to reassure her.

“Of course not! I’d like it very much if you stayed, but I understand if you don’t feel safe here anymore.”

The woman frowns, placing a hand on Laine’s own, “if this is about what happened in Poviss—”

“it won’t happen again. I promise you.” She swears, looking Eris directly in the eye.

She shakes her head, “I don’t blame you; you did everything you could. I feel safer with you on this ship than I would out in the city, especially now, with non-humans being burnt in hierarch square every other day.”

When Laine doesn’t seem appeased, she chuckles, “what happened…it’s the reality for a woman in this world, it scared me, but I won’t let it stop me from living.”

Laine lets out a breath before looking at the halfling with vulnerable eyes, the woman goes silent, not having seen such emotion in the eyes of her captain before today. The elven woman is always kind, especially with her, but there’s a distance there, always. The chance to get to know her is one that Eris can’t let pass by, so she stays quiet, listening to the waves smack gently against the sides of the ship.

“Long as I can remember I’ve lived on this ship. The old captain was a horrible woman, bought me from slavers when I was four years old, or so she told me…”

Eris looks surprised and a little shocked at this, “I always wondered why you were so against slavery, pirates aren’t always…”

“I’m not a fan, no. All pirates have different morals, I prefer to make my coin in other ways.” She shrugs, she’s never made it a secret that she doesn’t deal in slaves, and anyone who asks receives a dagger in the gut for their troubles.

“but I was the only other woman on this ship, for 15 years, so she made me sleep in the captain’s quarters with her. ‘for my safety’ she said.” Laine closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, letting out tension, Eris lets her.

“I don’t remember when it started, but when I’d complain she’d tell me that I owed it to her, because I was nothing but a slave and I was lucky I was treated so well. On good days she’d pamper me, give me bangles and jewels, adorn me with jewelry” she fondles the numerous gold hoops and studs along the length of her pointed ears. “she would tell me that I was like a daughter to her, that this was how mothers showed that they loved their daughters… this ship became hell for me. I never wanted the same thing to happen to you, it should never have happened at all.”

When she looks up, Eris has tear tracks down her face, “but this ship is home for you now, right? You took it back?”

Laine nods, feeling the beginning of tears in her eyes as well, not speaking for fear of losing them.

“Maybe you can help me take it back too.” Her smile lifts Laine’s heart.

She nods, “of course I can.”

The halfling’s smile turns sad, “’I’m sorry that happened to you, you killed her, didn’t you? I thought I heard some of the men discussing it once.”

Laine stares at the wall, not really looking at anything, “Yeah, I did.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Geralt arrives and they set sail soon after. There are two new crew members to replace the ones they lost, an elven woman named Maya, who’s proficient with a bow. She’s tall, and beautiful, with soft brown curls, but Laine treats her crew equally so she doesn’t even think of courting her. she doesn’t, as Odin had so eloquently put it, shit where she eats.

The other new arrival is a large human man, named Mace, who has a large axe affixed to his back. He’s gruff but respectful towards her, so large that he seems to rival Geralt in sheer mass, though he doesn’t seem to like having Geralt on the ship.

Some of her crew share the opinion, mostly the humans, so she spends the first few days of the voyage on deck, keeping an eye on tensions. Also taking the opportunity to restore some of the rapport with her crew that she may have lost on the trip back from Poviss.

She stands at the helm on the third day of their two-week voyage to Skellige when she finds herself joined by the Witcher himself. He stands next to her with his arms crossed, but his stance relaxed, she barely reacts to his presence.

She’d caught him watching her multiple times as the voyage unfolded, and knew he had something to say, she’d decided to let him approach her when he was ready.

“you’ve been to Skellige before, but you don’t think you’ll be well received?”

She smiles and shrugs, “I’ve had trade agreements there, they should still hold, it’s the women I’m worried about.”

“You mentioned that, any stories there?” his voice is light, but she can tell that he’s digging.

“Not really, I was a visitor at Kaer Trolde for a while after I fell from the ship during a battle and washed up on shore, Cerys an Craite and I had a dalliance and I left in the night, stole some coin from her too. Doubt she’ll be pleased to see me….”

“Thing is, women in Novigrad are pissed off, but the worst I’ll get is a slap for leaving them high and dry. In Skellige, women are much more willing to give you a piece of their mind. With a dagger, or an axe.”

He nods, “I know Cerys’ father, he’s an old friend, haven’t seen her in a long time.”

“What’s your business in Skellige anyway?” she prods, trying to get the subject off of her.

“Searching for a young woman, like a daughter to me, who’s in danger. There were traces of her in Novigrad and Velen, but the trails run cold. I’m meeting a woman in Skellige, a sorceress, who cares a lot about Ciri too. She’s been investigating some magical anomaly, seeing if there’s been any sign of her there.” He seems exhausted, his eyes showing anguish when he talks about how his daughter is in danger.

“I hope you find your daughter, Geralt.” She says, turning to look at him.

“Right now, it’s a breadcrumb trail that’s leading to dead end after dead end. In Novigrad, I had to find whoreson junior, to find Dudu, to find dandelion, only for Dandelion to tell me that he has no idea where Ciri is. That last he saw she had teleported to safety, which means she could be anywhere by now.” His jaw is tense, and she nods.

“Onto the next breadcrumb.” She says solemnly. “it’s all you can do.”

“Onto the next breadcrumb.” He agrees

*****

They’re sitting around the fire eating dinner a few nights later. The tensions have been rising between a few of the men and Geralt, so she’s seen fit to separate them, keeping her eye on the Witcher.

Witcher’s are strong, but against a group they can easily be overrun. She’s currently sitting between Odin and Geralt, the latter of which is regaling her with yet another tale about Yennefer, the woman he’s set to meet in Skellige.

He’s taken any opportunity to talk about her, and it’s clear that he’s madly in love with her, she just doesn’t understand why he’s so insistent that she cares.

“So, Geralt, sorceresses...”

“What?”

“You seem rather fond of them.” She raises an eyebrow in his direction, “first Triss, who looks like she wants to climb you like a tree, and now this Yennefer woman, who you will not stop telling me about.”

“I think the two of you would get along.” He grins, “you’re both stubborn and can easily command twenty or more men to do your bidding with a snap of your fingers.”

Odin, interjects from her side, his mouth full of dried meat. “nothing to do with magic that, would follow this lass to the horizon, she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

She laughs, waving the Dwarf’s compliment, “well you’ll have to introduce me then, she sounds great.”

He smiles fondly at the thought of the woman for a moment, she’s finally learning to gauge his various micro-expressions, making their conversations much more entertaining. Turns out he’s quite sarcastic and has a dry sort of humor that suits her perfectly. The man is silent for a few minutes after that, then looks down at her wrist, squinting to see the leather cord with a raven’s head bauble attached.

“That bracelet, where’d you get it?” his fixation for the necklace affixed around her wrist is endless, his eyes always stray to it at least once during a conversation. The truth is that it hides scars from her time with Captain Reynolds all those years ago, but she’s certainly not getting into that.

“I’ve always had it, it’s the one thing the captain allowed me to keep when she bought me from slavers, it’s a miracle it wasn’t taken from me before that. I suppose it’s not worth anything.”

His brow furrows, “where were you before you were a slave?”

She nods and shrugs, “Not sure, all that matters is that I’m not one anymore. Don’t know where I came from, but nonetheless, I came with the necklace. Fighting with it around my neck there’s a risk of losing it, so I moved wearing it on my wrist when I became captain.”

“Raven’s head, looks just like a spell Yen loves using, leave’s a raven’s head just like that in the aftermath.”

She laughs, the man will use any excuse to bring the woman up “Yes, Geralt, we can now continue talking about your sorceress.”

*****

It’s a week and a half into their trip when she’s awoken in the night by yells and thumping, she shoots up when a particularly loud yell startles her. She jumps out of bed and pulls on a tunic, grabbing the dagger under her pillow and bolting out of her quarters.

“Watch out, he’s casting!”

She’s met with the sight of one man on the floor of the hold, another brandishing a crossbow which is pointed directly at Geralt. The Witcher has his steel sword out, but is holding his hand up instead, a golden sphere surrounds him. He looks unharmed, but it’s hard to see through the forcefield.

There’s another man, a dwarf, with a sword, who’s yelling and charging at the forcefield. But a blow simply causes the forcefield to shatter, sending the dwarf flying into a table.

“Everyone, stand down! Now!” she yells.

Red, the dwarf who’s collided with the table, groans and tries to get up. She kicks his sword out of his reach and puts a foot on his chest to keep him down.

“What the fuck is going on here! Captain? where’re yer pants?!” Odin stumbles out of his quarters with a bleary look on his face, slowly taking in the scene.

“Sorry dwarf, I didn’t have time to put on my bloody ball gown, with this lot trying to kill each other on my ship.” She spits.

Dannic, the human with a crossbow still trained on the Witcher, scowls. “It’s bad luck to have a bloody cat eyes on board, you and him are gonna lead us to a shipwreck before we reach Skellige.”

She scowls, “Are you out of your mind sailor?! Put the weapon down. Now.” Dannic scowls at her, refusing to comply. Instead he cocks the crossbow. Three things happen almost simultaneously; she throws the dagger in his direction, he looses a bolt, and Geralt throws his shield up.

The dagger finds its place in his chest and she lets herself relax for a second, thinking the threat neutralized, when a gurgling sound from behind her makes her turn in place. She sees Odin, a crossbow bolt in his neck, choking on his own blood before he collapses. 

****

Geralt watches the captain, and she’s truly the embodiment of that title right now, come up from the hold. Now fully dressed.

He has no question in his mind now, this elf, is the child that Yen lost so many years ago. He’d suspected it, how many dark-skinned elves do you find in Redania after all. Her caramel complexion, just as Yen would describe her, with wild chocolate curls that would trail behind her as she ran. She’s a little less carefree than described, but she’s no longer a child, and slavery upon a pirate ship will do that to a person.

Her being at sea would explain the way she seemed to disappear into thin air on the docks at Novigrad all those years ago, but after almost two decades of searching, Yen never found a trace of her.

He thinks back to just hours ago, watching as she held her first mate while he died, her sobs of anguish bringing the whole crew out to see what had happened. Not that she’d paid any attention.

The men who had attacked him, besides the one she’d already killed, were grabbed and bound by some of the larger crew. The dwarf was looking at Odin with shock and horror, while the man with an axe, a new arrival who had been against his presence the whole voyage, was shouting obscenities as they were both dragged to the brig.

Someone was even brave enough to approach _him_ with shackles, he’d leveled them with a glare and they’d looked to the captain, who was now composed enough to wave the elven man off.

Odin’s body and the human’s, who had fired the crossbow, were dealt with. One very differently to the other.

Then, after an hour or so, Laine had walks on deck. He sees no weapons but a single dagger on her hip.

Her back is straight, her expression colder and more unfeeling than his has ever been, save for a cold fury in her eyes. He feels responsible for the Dwarf’s death. It was after all, his shield that ricocheted the bolt directly towards the man. If the girl were to try and fight him, he doesn’t know if he would be able to hurt her. The girl that his love has been searching for for nearly twenty years. The fact that he’s not bound in the brig, and allowed to move freely, bodes well for him.

She walks to the side of the ship and turns to the crew. Fourteen men and women of varying races and himself. Some look scared, others anguished, the halfling cook is crying silently. If it weren’t for the circumstances, it would almost be comical, grown men frightened over woman nearly half their size. But in the face of her fury, Geralt can appreciate their apprehension.

She clears her throat before she speaks, no one looks away.

“Odin was an exception sailor, and a hell of a first-mate. But he was murdered, by trusted members of my crew.” Her hand is shaking, with grief or rage, Geralt can’t say. He see’s her motion toward the hold, and two more crewmen bring out the remaining attackers, gagged and bound.

They’re making a lot of noise, though muffled as it is, but their desperation doesn’t seem to get through to the captain. Her face may as well be made of stone.

She takes hold of the dwarf, her dagger is pushed up through his jaw and into his brain, then she’s pushing him over the edge of the ship. There’s not an ounce of emotion on her face as she does it, the dagger in her hand now dripping with blood. The blade goes in deep and forceful, he likely died as he hit the water.

Then she takes the human man, pushing him to the edge of the ship, letting him lean over the side. The rest of the crew are silent as she does, though Geralt can see some mourning for the men who are being executed in front of them, though not enough to intervene.

She slits the other man’s throat before throwing him to the depths, her crew members helping when he struggles. The wound is deep enough to eventually kill him, but the drowning will probably get him first, it’s a painful way to die.

She turns to the rest of the crew, her eyes stormy, “I have no place for infighting on my ship, any one crew member who attacks another will be removed from my employ, permanently. Am I clear!?”

The rage on her face is enough to send a shiver down Geralt’s spine, he can even see some of the men shaking. The captain stalks to her office rather than back to her quarters, likely avoiding seeing the blood in the hold, slamming the door as she goes.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the trip is somber, Laine lives in the captain’s office and only exits to adjust course, sometimes the cook brings her something to eat and she only opens the door to refuse it. Geralt spends most of his days on the deck, watching the door, feeling an urge to protect the woman but not wanting to anger her.

They finally arrive in Skellige with no more issues, the crew is on their best behavior, docking the ship close to the town below Kaer Trolde. Geralt moves to leave the ship, seeing people heading towards the far dock, seemingly for some kind of ceremony. He’s surprised however, to find Laine standing in his way, her expression still empty.

“Captain.” he stops by her and pauses. “Sorry, i—”

“it wasn’t your fault, _I_ actually wanted to apologize, I heard them whispering about you but I didn’t take it seriously. I’m sorry they attacked you. You defended yourself and I can’t expect anything less.”

She looks out to where people are gathering at the end of the dock. “We’ll be here until you’re ready to leave.”

He nods, placing a comforting pat on her shoulder, without another word she retreats back into the office.

****

Yennefer lets the putrid body slump to the ground, lifeless as it was before, the smell of rotting flesh is almost overwhelming. Around them, the garden is dying, the women at the gates cry in anguish at the sight of their holy place, mangled by Yen’s magic.

“Was that necessary? There could have been another way.” He scolds her, she can be selfish sometimes.

Yen’s eyes are hard as she stalks past him, “the only thing that matters right now is finding Ciri, I failed once, I will not make the same mistakes I did then.” Anguish shines through her eyes as she finishes. “I will _not lose another daughter._ ”

He stands his ground until those words leave her, finally stepping back. He feels guilt claw its way up his throat, the focus since he’d met her had been finding Ciri, he hadn’t found an appropriate time to bring Laine up.

She notices him falter, “I’m sorry, she’s your daughter too, I just can’t face that again. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

He looks away guiltily, she’s being considerate, while he’s hiding the truth from her. This can’t go farther.

“Not that. need to talk to you about something.” He pauses before clearing his throat, there’s no easy way to start “There’s a captain, the woman I sailed here with, waiting will only make it worse, but there hasn’t been an opportunity to bring it up”

Yen expression morphs into one of anger and devastation, she stops him with a hand held straight in the air, “you’re going to bring this up now? Well, whatever dalliance you had with this captain is going to have to wait. I need a favor from you and I’d like the matter dealt with as soon as possible.” Her voice shakes with anger, and before he can correct her, she speaks again “There’s a small town on the island, Larvik, meet me in the tavern there as soon as you can. We can talk about whatever you’ve _done_ after.”

The hurt is obvious in her tone as she creates a portal, stepping through and leaving him to make his own way to whatever task she wants done. He could have perhaps… worded that better. He makes his way over to try and placate the angry priestesses, hoping that this is the first part of his day that goes right.

*****

“Alright, I’ll go and report to Emhir and you’ll go back the Velen and get Uma, then we’ll meet at Kaer Morhen.” Yennefer looks at him with a new sense of adoration, they’d just freed themselves of the djinn’s bond, and both had found that they still felt exactly the same as they did before.

Geralt feels a nagging in his brain, this is his last chance to break the news to her for a while, the longer he puts it off the worse it will be.

It’s hard, the focus should be on Ciri right now, but this is just as important. Yen stands and raises a hand to open a portal for the both of them. 

“I need to talk to you before we go.” He grunts. For once, he’s frustrated that the mutations have stripped him of so much emotion, in this situation a little compassion would go far.

Her face crumples, remembering their talk in the garden, “if you must.” She sits back down on the edge of the cliff, looking anywhere but at him.

“I found her.” He winces at the vague statement that comes out of his mouth.

“Who? Ciri? What are we still doing here!? We must go to her!” Yen starts to stand but he pushes her back down.

“Not Ciri, Elaine, your daughter.” There’s a silence that seems to last too long as he finally utters the words.

Yen takes a few moments before she processes “no…that’s not possible, you must be mistaken.” Her voice is shaking. “Geralt if you think this is something to jest about—”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t lie to you about this.” He looks down at her, she’s looking straight at him, anguish on her face. She doesn’t believe him yet.

“Why wouldn’t you have told me this earlier? We’ve spent ample time together, you had plenty of opportunity, why did you wait till now?”

she sounds betrayed, he closes his eyes, “I’m sorry, there was so much going on, and we’re both distracted with Ciri. It never seemed like the right time.”

Yen stares up at him, processing his words, her mouth slowly begins to tilt up. Something like hope seems to fill her eyes “you’re sure it’s her Geralt?” the words are so quiet that even he strains to hear them.

He smiles at her, the unrestrained hope in her eyes is infectious, “not many dark skinned, elven women with Raven skull necklaces in Novigrad.”

“She still has the necklace?” Tears fill her eyes and she grabs hold of his arm, “tell me about her, is she beautiful?”

“She’s is. She’s the captain of a pirate ship, that’s why we could never track her, she was on the sea for almost the entirety of the last 18 years. First as a slave, then as a captain.”

Yen’s face crumples as he utters the word slave, so he distracts her by telling her of the fire in her eyes, how she commands a crew of men like she was born for it. He tells her how she lives her life in a brothel while not at sea. How she has the scorn of women and husbands alike. He tells her how her friends and crew care for her, and how she cares for them in return, even about the loss of her best friend.

“She was a shell of herself the last time I saw her, though it’s been a few weeks since then, she’s never around when I visit the ship.”

Yen drinks in any words he has to say about her daughter, then asks the biggest and most disappointing question.

“Does she remember me?”

*********

Laine is looking over trade agreements in her office when her ears twitch at something of a commotion outside, she trusts her crew to deal with it in her absence and so continues to work, there’s been far too many distractions during this trip as it is.

Losing her first mate and then having to take on his responsibilities, all while dodging the knives of several women in town has been hard, she’s been trying to grieve for her friend while simultaneously trying to run her ship and crew in relatively hostile waters.

It’s safe to say that it’s started taking its toll on her.

There’s a knock at her office door and she sighs, placing the page she’s currently reading back on the desk and letting out an annoyed, “enter.”

She’s surprised to see Geralt walk into the room, and trailing behind him an extraordinarily beautiful woman in black and white, this must be the woman he came here to meet.

It’s been weeks since she’s seen him, she’s heard that he’d visited a few times, but she hasn’t exactly been social lately. She figured he’d need to be here longer, the Skellige isles are a big place to search after all.

She stands to greet them, moving around the desk as she speaks, “Geralt, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon, did you find what you were looking for? I take it you didn’t find Ciri?” she crosses her arms and leans against on the edge of her desk sending him a concerned look.

“Not quite, though I’ve found the next breadcrumb, have to get back to the mainland. How soon can your crew be ready to depart?” he crosses his arms, matching her.

“We can leave today, there’s some big celebration going on, so most of the crew have been barred from wandering too far. Most of the shops are closed too, we can be under way in short order.”

The woman is staring at her, a look akin to wonder on her face, the lack of introduction is becoming somewhat awkward.

Geralt chuckles “probably due to Queen Cerys’ inauguration, everyone on Ard Skellig is there.” His voice is somewhat teasing, she’s surprised at how well she’s come to pick up the nuances in his tones and expressions.

“Well” she muses, a carefree smirk crossing her face, “we’d best depart before she comes to her senses and decides that her first ruling should be having me drawn and quartered.”

Yennefer, if this is indeed the woman that Geralt was here to meet, seems to stiffen. There’s a surge of panic in her eyes as she places a hand on Geralt’s arm, he turns to her and upon seeing her expression, places a hand on each of her shoulders.

“Yen, relax, she’s kidding” he turns back to Laine and pushes the woman in front of him, “Captain, this is Yennefer of Vengerburg. Yen, Captain Laine of The Plague Maiden.”

Yen clears her throat, looking back at Geralt unsurely, he nods his encouragement. She turns back and sends the elven girl a smile that seems to shine through her eyes, “just Yen, please. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Geralt has told me so much about you.” She seems to wrestle with herself before timidly holding a hand out.

Laine smiles back kindly, taking the hand in hers and giving it a firm shake “Yes, Geralt has told me far too much about you as well.”

Yen’s smile seems to falter at her dry words, causing Geralt to step forward, placing his hands on the woman’s hips.

“Yennefer wanted to travel back with us, if it’s not too much trouble, I brought the coin to cover for her.” He holds out a coin purse about half the size of the one he’d given her for the trip here and back. She nods, grabbing the coin and placing it on the desk behind her.

“You’re welcome to travel with us, I hope a pirate ship is up to your standards my lady, we’re not exactly upstanding citizens.” She averts her eyes, “there’s a private room handy, you can have that for the trip home. share it if you will.” She locks eyes with Geralt, who nods in understanding.

“I’m sure I’ll find it more than acceptable, captain, thank you.” Yennefer’s eyes seem to search her face, looking for something, though if she finds what she’s looking for she doesn’t say.

Laine nods, “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve some business that I have to finish up before we leave, we’ll likely be departing around midday.”

Geralt nods and shepherds Yennefer out of the office, taking the obvious dismissal, Yen keeps shooting glances back at her, making the captain’s brow furrow as the door shuts behind them.

The woman’s behavior is downright bizarre, there’s something about her, a sense that she’s heard that voice before. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on it. She spends a little longer reviewing the rest of her old trade agreements, then picks them up and makes her way out of the office and into the sunlight for the first time in days, having sequestered herself in either her quarters or office for most of the stay in Skellige.

As her eyes adjust to the brightness of the early morning, she can see various crew members milling around, most are on the ship as the town has basically been abandoned for the time being. Geralt and Yennefer are standing side by side, very close together, speaking in hushed voices. They were clearly in the middle of a conversation, but her arrival on deck seems to have gained their attention, she deigns not to waste it.

Moving up the stairs to gain some height on the crew she begins to project her voice, “listen up you lazy whoresons! We’ll be departing in a few hours, anyone not on board will need to be collected before midday.” The entire crew has turned to listen at this point. “I’ll be shoreside for a few hours, but I’ll expect the ship to be ready to depart by the time I return, am I clear!?”

An almost uniform, “Aye Captain!” rings out through the ship and she nods with approval before moving back down to the lower level.

She’s intercepted by a frantic looking Eris, who shoves some meat wrapped in bread into her hands, mumbling about ‘eating something for fuck’s sake.’ Causing the elf to send a grateful smile her way, she takes a bite, turning to depart the ship.

She’s about to leave when a voice rings out, “where are you going!?” she turns to find Yennefer making her way towards her, a strange look on her face, a wary looking Witcher just a few steps behind her.

She straightens slightly, raising an eyebrow at the stranger, “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.” Her voice is cold, used to people taking orders on her ship without question, she’s certainly not used to people questioning her actions.

The sorceress stops short, looking gutted at her tone, and Laine works to bring back some civility to her demeanor, Geralt breaks the silence “weren’t you saying something about Cerys wanting you drawn and quartered, need some company on your errands?”

She looks between the two and sighs, “apologies, I’d prefer to be alone. If it’s all the same to you.” Without another word she turns and steps onto the harbor, not daring to look back after the frosty encounter with the woman.

****

“She hates me”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

Geralt watches his Yen stare after the scantily clad captain, she seems to deflate more and more the further the elf gets up the docks, as if her very essence is tied to the woman.

“Told you before, she’s slow to trust, you’re just coming on a little strong. And with no context, your actions might seem strange. Remember that she’s just lost her friend.”

“she didn’t recognize me, there was nothing there.” Yen seemed to hug herself for a moment. “but it’s her, I knew the instant I saw her.”

Her mood seems to shift and she turns and wraps her arms around him, smiling up at him dreamily, “she’s not at all how I imagined after you described her, I imagined an irresponsible harlot, but she’s incredibly well centered. The way she commanded the attention of the entire ship.”

She turns to look at the halfling woman who’s speaking softly with another crew member and staring after the captain, “she’s also soft, and cares about her people, and they clearly care about her. She’s just wonderful.” The sorceress gushes.

“You forgot; frighteningly sure of herself, and stubborn as an ox, apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” he watches her eyes light up at his words. “don’t get your expectations too high, she’s grieving, not herself right now. I’ve seen her slit a man’s throat and push him out to sea just so he’ll feel as much pain as possible while he drowns, she’s still a pirate, you should be careful.”

Yen nods in agreement, then turns to watch the town, “now _what_ is all this fuss about Cerys an Craite? Why would the queen of Skellige want her head?”

****

A few hours later, Laine is exiting a local fishermen’s stall with the agreement to get provisions onto the ship as soon as possible. Her work is finally done, and her coin purse is much lighter for it. The town is well and truly back in full swing, with people heading to Kaer Trolde keep to continue celebrating, it’s a decent distraction to set sail without much fuss.

She hasn’t had a single problem in the few hours it took to track down provisions for the ship, she’s counting her blessings as she turns the corner past the tavern and almost runs straight into Cerys an Craite herself.

The flame haired beauty is standing tall, her arms crossed and her expression stormy, there’s a crown on her head that identifies her as the newly crowned queen of Skellige. It looks like she was born to wear it, Laine feels the breath leave her lungs at the sight, both in trepidation and awe.

For once, she doesn’t have a thing to say, no excuse on the edge of her tongue to charm the angry woman. Taking a good look at her, Cerys’ ire seems to deflate on its own.

“Heard you were leaving, didn’t want to let you go without seeing you again… I heard… about Odin, I’m sorry.”

Laine lets her eyes close at the words, letting the anguish hit her, it’s with horror that she realizes her eyes are hot with tears.

Cerys seems surprised at her show of emotion and grabs her by the arm, pulling her into the tavern and into an unoccupied room without a word to anyone, Laine supposes you can do that sort of thing when you’re a queen.

The next thing she knows, she’s being embraced, she can’t remember the last time someone hugged her. She can’t stop the tears from falling at the unfamiliar sensation of being hugged without ulterior motive.

The whores embrace her because she pays. They care for her coin purse, not her, she makes sure of it. Her crew are around her because she pays them. Even Odin was well compensated to spend time with her. Captain Reynolds never really cared about her; she took advantage of a scared child, never felt bad for a second for ruining her.

So she holds people at a distance, too afraid to wonder whether their love is real or fabricated, whether they’d stab her in the back for the right price. This, this feeling, is the first sense of someone holding her, comforting her for no other reason than that they care.

So she holds on to Cery’s and for the first time in her life she just sobs. She feels the woman pull her towards the bed and sit down, pulling her down onto her lap so they’re face to face, or face to throat in her case. She’s curled around the other woman, and can feel a hand rhythmically stroking her back, she’s far too distraught to be embarrassed at her uncharacteristic display of emotion.

“It’s all right my love, you get it out, you’ll be just fine.” Cerys croons in that wonderful accent, Laine barely feels the kiss that’s placed in her wild head of curls, but she feels it. It almost sets her off all over again, that act of tenderness, from a woman who should be furious with her.

After what seems like ages she calms, gets her breathing under control, finds enough control to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. How long’ve you been sat on that ship bottlin’ all this up?” the other woman’s hand is now running through her hair. When another kiss is placed gently on Laine’s forehead she stiffens, trying to pull away, the gesture is far too tender.

Cerys snorts, holding her closer, “calm down, ye’ daft git, I'm not proposing marriage.”

She huffs out a laugh at the taller woman’s words. Finally tilting her head up, knowing she must look like a mess, she looks in Cerys’ eyes. To her surprise, the woman gives her a fond but sad smile, “you look exhausted, talk to me.”

For once in her life, she just talks.

“He was everything to me, the only person in the world I trusted, and he’s gone. He was there for me for 17 years, as long as I can remember, he’s the only one who’s ever _really_ been there. I don’t know how to set sail without him next to me… it just hurts.”

Her voice wavers at the end of her speech, her eyes closing as she rests her head on Cerys’ freckled shoulder, the woman forcing her to relax with repeated motions of her hand massaging her scalp.

“I became captain because of him.” She murmurs, she feels Cerys stiffen in surprise, her hand going still.

After a few seconds she resumes the motions, “tell me.”

“I was close with him, but I was the only other woman on board, so the captain made me sleep in her quarters. She would…take advantage of me, since I can remember.” She feels Cerys’ fist clench, and pauses, grabbing hold of it and forcing the hand open. She runs her finger over the human woman’s palm, gently caressing it. It serves to both relax her and calm Cerys.

“One night, before I retired for the night, I heard her talking to her first mate. She told him that Odin was becoming suspicious of her, too outspoken against some of her decisions, she was planning to make an example out of him. Public execution. I couldn’t let her hurt my only friend, so I slit her throat that night as she slept, hers and her first mate’s.”

There’s a shocked silence for a few seconds, before, “You did the right thing.” Cerys’ voice is firm.

“Did I? I executed plenty of men on that ship, her followers, those that disagreed with me. it wasn’t exactly a unanimous mutiny. Did their lives matter less than Odin’s? than mine?”

“If they were aiding that monster, then yes. Did he ever know?” she asks.

She laughs at that, “yes, I lorded it over him constantly, and he’d bring it out any time he needed to make fun of me, or prove that I cared for him.” The tears are now happy ones. They sit in a light silence for a while.

She looks up at Cerys who looks fondly down at her, “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon.”

“I should go, I said midday, it’s got to be getting close.” She moves to stand, but Cerys keeps a hold of her thighs, not letting her leave the comfort of her lap.

“you’re already late, what’s a little longer?” she murmurs, placing a soft kiss against the elven woman’s neck.

“I guess congratulations are in order, your majesty. You know, when I turned that corner and saw you standing there, I thought you were going to drag me to Kaer Trolde and order me executed.” She laughs, her voice gaining a breathy quality as the kisses move up her neck and under her jaw.

Cerys smiles “I might have given you a piece of my mind, if you hadn’t looked so pathetic… I wouldn’t execute you, I'm in far too deep for that.” She finishes by placing a heated kiss directly on her lips, drawing her in with a heat so intense, it’s like she’s feeling something real for the first time in weeks.

As the kiss gets more heated, Laine recalls Triss’ words so many months ago, _“The trick is to get them to care enough that they wouldn’t cook your insides.”_

And her response, _“if you get that far, that’s when you’re really in trouble.”_


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt watches Yen pace on the deck of the ship, some of the pirates lazing around are beginning to send her nervous. They don’t seem at all worried over the absence of their captain, the frustrated sorceress on the other hand, seems cause for concern.

“I could send a raven, just to search the town, listen at a few windows.” Yen’s voice is slightly panicked, even Geralt shares in her concerns, though he knows the best thing to do for now is talk her down.

“It’s only a few hours, and she said ‘around midday.’”

Yen fixes him with a glare, “she also told us that the queen of Skellige has her ire for some imagined folly, if something happened, you’d likely have the power to work something out. They owe you after all you’ve done for them.”

“imagined?” Geralt had explained that Cerys and Laine were old flames, much to Yennefer’s disapproval.

“I don’t care about their past, she doesn’t owe the woman a thing, if she wants to leave in the middle of the night that’s her prerogative.” Yen seems to think that the queen of Skellige isn’t good enough for her daughter, he wonders if there’s a person alive she’d approve of.

She’s in crisis mode, planning for the worst case, nothing to do but let her ride it out. He watches her for a few minutes before he hears laughter coming from the harbor. Moving to the side of the ship, he sees Laine and _Cerys_ of all people, walking side by side.

The elf appears to be in a better mood than when she left, with a soft smile on her face, one of the first genuine ones he’s seen. It takes him slightly off guard.

Yen appears beside him, eyes lighting up at the sight of her daughter, though immediately tensing as she sees who’s next to her.

“Don’t worry, they’re laughing.” He puts his arms around her, both as a cover and to stop her from potentially launching herself over the side of the ship.

He strains his ears as they approach, trying to hear their conversation, he can feel Yen invading his mind to eavesdrop. His hearing is much sharper than his.

 _“Thank you, for listening, it means a lot.”_ Laine looks properly insecure as she plays with one of the buckles on Cerys’ massive fluffy coat, her eyes focused clearly on the taller woman’s naval. That’s another thing he hasn’t seen before, the normally outgoing and charming captain rarely seems unsure unless she’s acting, this is clearly not an act. He can’t hear her heartbeat from this distance but he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s currently pounding.

 _“thank you for opening up to me, I’m always happy to listen. You’ll write me won’t you? I can’t stand the idea of not hearing from you for so long this time. You’re always welcome on our shores, know that.”_ Cerys is looking at Laine in exactly the same way that he looks at Yen.

The thought shocks him, and he turns to find Yen’s eyes on him. They stare at each other for a few long seconds, his mouth twitching up at the adoration in her eyes. Suddenly, their private moment is severed when they’re distracted by a loud ‘whoop!’ and a whistle from one of the crew. Turning, they see that the couple is now embraced in a passionate kiss, Cerys seemingly the one who initiated it if her grip around the elf’s waist is a sign of anything.

They pull away, and the newly crowned queen has a giddy look on her face, _“you don’t have to say it back,”_ clearly they’ve missed something _“I don’t expect anything from you. I know all about how you and the sea are- “_

She’s interrupted as Laine shoots forward, placing a much shorter kiss on the taller woman’s lips before pulling away,

 _“Till next time, your majesty.”_ Her tone is teasing as she backs onto the ship. 

****

Laine schools her expression as she steps back onto the ship, then begins performing checks before they depart. Before, these would be done by Odin, who she’d trust implicitly to ensure her that the ship was ready, but there’s no one she trusts like that anymore.

She’s also distracting herself, bottling up what just happened with Cerys, to be dissected later in the privacy of her own cabin. She ran last time they’d met because things became too real, Cerys was land bound and she needed to get back to her crew, and she was afraid of the feelings she knew were nudging at her and trying to make themselves known.

She can feel Geralt and the sorceress staring at her as she moves about the ship, she ignores them, they’re likely annoyed at her for taking so long. She knows that they’re eager to get going, the catharsis of finally letting her grief air itself stops her from engaging.

It’s only when the ship is finally on open water and she’s sure that their heading is correct, that she leaves one of her men at the helm and heads down to the main deck. It’s then that she turns her attention to the couple, Yen is looking exceptionally unsteady on her feet, Laine decides she should at least try to break the ice with the woman. She seems to mean a lot to Geralt, and they’ll be in close quarters for the next 2 weeks.

They seem to be heading towards the hold, she meets them before they reach the stairs, Geralt nods and Yen sends a shaky smile her way as they continue descending together.

“Are you well, lady Yennefer?” the woman looks almost green as she leans into Geralt.

“Just fine, sea travel is not my friend I'm afraid, I was going to head down to eat something. If I can’t settle my stomach there may be ingredients for a poultice to settle it that way, if you don’t mind me taking over your ship’s kitchen of course.” The woman seems much more agreeable now that they’re heading away from Skellige.

She nods in response, “of course, though you’ll have to fight the cook for the kitchen, you’re welcome to any ingredients we have on board.” She frowns, “if I’d known you were prone to sea sickness, I’d have procured some herbs at your advisement.”

The woman sends her a warm smile, “no need, I'm sure I’ll make do.”

Laine gives a nod, “try to remain above deck while you’re getting your sea legs, being down in the hold for too long will only make it worse.”

She then excuses herself, citing work that needs doing. Instead, she heads up to her captain’s office and looks at the crate of possessions that she took from Odin’s room. Squatting down, she begins to gently rustle through the contents.

His weapons, letters from his late daughter, tunics that would hang on her small frame, she can’t bear to part with any of it. She’ll have to travel to her home in Velen and store it all safely.

She stands and moves to her desk; strong, dark wood that’s heavy enough to keep its place even through the roughest of seas. She anchors herself to that weight, dropping down into her chair, chosen for its comfort. Her eyes close and she listens to the waves beating against the ship.

If she concentrates, she can feel the direction the ship is moving, the hustle and bustle of ship life, even the chopping of a knife in the kitchen. She huffs with amusement as she imagines the sorceress taking over Eris’ kitchen, two strong willed women vying for territory.

The woman is strange, not quite like Geralt had described her. She stares a lot, and seems to center herself almost entirely around Geralt. She supposes that it’s not surprising, given that the woman is on a pirate ship filled with strangers, but she expected the woman to have a little more fire to her.

Geralt had described her as a hard woman who didn’t take shit from anybody, who could take care of herself and who never let a situation get the better of her. This meek smiley woman, unsure on her feet was the opposite of what she was expecting, she shrugs to herself. If Geralt was happy then she supposes it doesn’t matter.

She turns her own thoughts towards Cerys an Craite, the most unexpected part of this trip, she expected the woman to run her through with a sword when she turned that corner. She can’t help the tug of a smile when she remembers what it was like to cry on someone’s shoulder, she can’t recall ever giving herself willingly to someone, to trust and make herself vulnerable.

And those whispered words before that sweeping kiss. No one had ever swept her off her feet like that, despite her stature, she’s usually the one doing the sweeping. She begins to drift off at her desk chair as she remembers when she and Cerys met for the first time.

*******

_The last thing she remembers is the pull of the storming sea, and the rushing of rocks coming to meet her, before nothing._

_Groaning, she lifts herself from the softness beneath her and attempts to open her eyes, an assault of light is the only thing that greets her. Her eyes shut of their own accord, protecting themselves from the barrage on her eyes, she’s in so much pain that there’s no way to pinpoint its origin._

_“Oh, fuck me, no no, stay down. Yer’ not fit for moving just yet.” The Skellige accent throws her, they were nearing Skellige when they were boarded by pirates. It was in the middle of a skirmish with a man twice her size that she was launched overboard and into the, rough, storming waves._

_She hears heavy fabric being moved as she settles back down, the sharp pain reducing to a dull ache as she does._

_“Right, you can open your eyes now.”_

_Laine chances it, her sleep crusted eyes opening ever so slightly. When she sees heavy red curtains covering the previous source of light, she relaxes and opens them fully._

_Taking in the room, she’s surprised to see a woman looking at her, a beautiful woman. Her hair is a striking shade of red, and her features are incredible. She’s wrapped in thick furs, Laine wants to unwrap them, find out if the rest of her body is as strong as her jawline._

_She lifts herself slightly, adjusting herself to get a better look at the warrior woman who’s now looking at her with a concerned expression._

_The adjustment proves to be a poor decision, as her injured arm makes itself painfully known, causing her to let out a sharp grunt of pain._

_“I told you not to move!” the woman rushes over and pushes her back down, sending her a harsh glare as she goes._

_“I'm I dead?” Laine doesn’t know where that came from, surely death wouldn’t be this painful. Though she’s sure the gods wouldn’t take pity on her, she’s long known that she’d be punished in death._

_The woman chuckles, taking a plate of herbs from the table next to her, “not yet I’m afraid.”_

_She busies herself, placing herbs and powders into a mortar and pestle and fixing something._

_“you were found by a group of fishermen, washed up on the beach, battered to hell on the rocks you were.” She takes a break from mixing. “yer arm isn’t broken, probably fractured, you need to keep it still.”_

_She finds herself barely able to focus on the woman’s words, between her face and the fuzzy feeling in her head, she fights to make sense of anything at all._

_“My crew.” She swallows and tries to sit up again, the woman clucks with frustration and pushes her back down once again._

_“Stop moving or I’ll tie you down.” The authority in her voice makes Laine pause, forgetting the concern she has for her crew for a moment._

_“Oh yeah, what else are you gonna do if I misbehave, love?”_

_The woman goes bright red, almost matching her hair, and averts her gaze. Shaking her head and laughing lightly._

_“Oh, you’re gonna be trouble, I know it.” She finishes whatever she’s preparing and scoops it into a bowl, handing the bowl to Laine, who takes it with her uninjured arm._

_Laine stares down at the sloppy green mixture with a grimace, “thank you?”_

_The woman chuckles, “drink it, it’ll help with the pain.”_

_Laine immediately tries to hand it back to her, “no, thank you, I'm not in pain.”_

_The woman crosses her arms and refuses to take the concoction back, “if only I believed that, drink it, that’s an order.”_

_The pirate smirks, placing the bowl on the side table next to her and crossing her arms, “oh yeah, and what are you going to do to me if I refuse?” there’s a lilt to her voice that makes the innuendo clear. The redness returns to the woman’s face, and Laine’s smile widens._

_The woman seems the think for a moment before she responds, “I’ll find someone to hold you down, and I’ll shove it down yer throat.” With this, she takes the bowl and shoves it back into the elf’s hands._

_Laine blinks dumbly under the stern gaze of the Skellige warrior, because really, with a fire like that what else could she be. Then grumbles, throwing the goop back like a spirit, all in one go. She sputters at the foul taste, coughing and trying to get the taste out of her mouth. A tankard appears in her line of vision and she grabs it, downing the water to get the taste out of her mouth._

_Once her sputtering is under control and the taste is no longer at the forefront of her mind, she returns to her earlier mode of questioning, “my crew, where are they?” her voice hardens as in tandem with her concern._

_“you were the only one there, a foreign ship docked in town a few hours ago, but I don’t know if they’re your crew.” She seems genuinely concerned._

_Laine moves to stand, on the opposite side of the bed to the woman, who shoots up at her movement._

_“sit down before you damage something.” Her voice is authoritative._

_Laine ignores her, the need to get back to her ship and her newly acquired captaincy is far too heavy on her mind, sitting in bed is the last thing she wants to be doing._

_She places weight on her legs and is happy to find that there’s minimal pain. The next second there’s an angry Skellige woman in front of her._

_She’s larger than Laine, but she’s sure she can get past her._

_“lay back down. now.” This little stand off is turning Laine on a little, but she doesn’t have the presence of mind to take it anywhere._

_“Move.” Laine responds, she doesn’t want to fight the woman if she doesn’t have to._

_“We don’t get many elves around here” the woman scowls down at her, but doesn’t comply with her request. “are they all this stubborn, or is it just you?”_

_“Listen red” she begins, “The last I saw of my crew they were fighting_ your _people aboard_ my _ship. Now, move, or I’ll make you.” She stands as tall as she can with the aches racking her body. Using her captain’s voice, a voice that sends men twice her size scrambling to do her bidding._

_To her surprise, the woman doesn’t back down, but Laine notices her pupils are dilated. Her eyes flick down and Laine realizes that she’s wearing nothing but an oversized tunic._

_She frowns in confusion, “where’re my clothes?”_

_Red clears her throat, shaking herself slightly, “they were ruined, I can lend you some, though they’ll probably be too big.” She chuckles, “though, I don’t think there’s a stitch of clothing in the keep that wouldn’t be.”_

_She sobers at the unamused look on Laine’s face. “fine, I’ll make you a deal, we can go and see if your ship is down at the docks but I’ll be accompanying you, you can’t ride a horse in your state so we’ll have to share.”_

_Laine wants to say that she cannot ride a horse at all, but she’s strangely bashful in front of the stranger, aware of herself in a way she’s never been before._

_The girl tells her that her name is Cerys and she shares her own name as they ride down to the docks._

_Her back is pressed against Cerys’ front in the horse, who it took her a few minutes to get used to, and the girl’s arm is held securely around Laine’s middle to keep her from falling off the massive beast._

_Once they finally reach the docks, Laine spots the plague maiden’s sails from her seat and moves to scramble off the horse, much to her companions’ concern and amusement as she stumbles from the soreness of her legs. They’re not used to riding and it shows._

_“I’m the captain, I can’t be seen riding in front of you like a flimsy little dame.” She seethes as Cerys laughs at her._

_“As the captain, I wouldn’t expect your ego to be so fragile.” She challenges._

_Laine turns to her, walking backwards and raising her eyebrows suggestively, “Once we’re aboard I’ll show you to my quarters, then I can show you exactly how fragile I’m not.”_

_Cerys snorts with laughter, Laine’s eyes widen as the girl laughs with such abandon, the undignified sound is kind of beautiful._

_She schools her expression as they reach the ship and she reunites with the crew, she then spends the next few hours reassuring Odin that she’s fine and relatively unharmed._

_The ship was damaged in the attack and is going to need repairs before they can leave, this puts Laine in an awkward position. She’s stranded for a week, with an attentive warrior who wants to visit and make sure that she’s healing, it’s not exactly ideal seeing as she’s also fighting butterflies whenever the woman fusses over her._

_She’s relatively battered, her arm is fractured, and there are some intense scrapes along her legs and torso where she collided with rocks, whole sections of her skin have been shaved from her flesh. It hurts, though much less for the poultice that Cerys continues to force her to drink, a mix that she swears helps with pain. To be honest, she only gives in and drinks it to see the self-satisfied smirk on the woman’s face when she finally gets her way._

_It takes her a few days to get the woman into bed, it only takes that long at all because as far as Cerys is concerned, she shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous before she’s healed._

_She figured that whatever fondness she had for the woman would dissipate once she had finally slept with her, however, the opposite has occurred. Usually she’ll find fun in the chase, but once the hunt is over and there’s nothing left for her, she moves on without another thought._

_This time she finds new games; how many times she can get Cerys to blush, loving the way it serves as a backdrop to those freckles, how many times she can get her to laugh so hard she snorts, bonus points if she has a mouth full of ale, or some other beverage, at the time._

_They’re in her quarters, the repairs to the ship are almost finished, and she’s ready to set sail. They’ll likely be leaving the next morning, and she finds herself longing for a few more days with Cerys._

_The thought shocks her out of her musing, she’s looking over orders that Odin had given her to check over before their departure, Cerys is lounging on her bed in minimal clothes. The red head is staring at her with a soft look on her face and Laine starts to realize how deep she’s getting in._

_Cerys doesn’t know that she’s leaving, they’d spoken about how she’d return to the sea eventually, the only place she feels at home. she’d shared more with this woman than she’d ever shared with anyone before._

_They’d been on this bed just earlier that day, post sex and relaxed, when Cerys had started to question her._

_“your tattoos, do they have meanings?” she’s tracing one on her navel as she’s asking, though she stops when Laine’s body goes still._

_After a moment, she clears her throat, “no.” the word comes out rather gruffly._

_Cerys raises an eyebrow, but changes the subject._

_“would you ever stay in one place?” her tone had been mighty casual to the untrained ear, but Laine could tell that she was probing. “don’t you ever long for a home?”_

_Laine takes a moment to think “I don’t know, the land just feels so permanent, like I'm making a decision that I can’t take back. When I'm at sea, I’m constantly moving to a new destination, I think that movement_ is _home for me.” she’s smiling as she says it but Cerys doesn’t seem happy._

_“you’re a restless soul, I hope you find what you’re looking for someday.” Then she’d pulled Laine into a soft kiss._

_Laine doesn’t know how to broach anything personal with this woman, there’s too much baggage, too much that she’s not ready to talk about._

_The negativity associated with her tattoos for one. They’re part of her, but their origin would probably make Cerys sick, she’d rather not get into it. Even if sharing the burden would probably help her._

_Looking at Cerys now, she feels the tug, the want to stay here with her. She wants to share herself. If she’s not careful, the need to make her blush, make her laugh, it’ll become a craving that she can’t let go of. Then she thinks of her crew, and the sea, she could never leave them._

_She swallows thickly, she needs to put an end to this before it ruins her, this underlying affection, growing like a disease under her skin._

_Standing, she pulls on one of Cerys’ furs, throwing the other in the taller woman’s direction._

_“let’s get going, I want that tour of the keep you offered me.” she sends a charming smile Cerys’ way, and moves to lean against the door, watching her dress with a lecherous smile on her face. She’s putting on a brave face, trying to feign like nothing’s wrong._

_Wonderful as she is, Cerys seems to sense her change in mood instantly and frowns. Once she’s fully dressed, she walks over and places a hand on each side of Laine’s face. If she’s looking for something, it’s unclear whether she’s found it, Laine distracts her with a kiss._

_Their journey back is filled with Cerys talking her ear off about the town, the keep, and their history. Laine tries to hum and nod in all the right places. But if Cerys’ arms, tense around her middle are anything to go by, she’s not very convincing._

_The tour is minimal, night is falling around them once they finally reach Kaer Trolde Keep, and Cerys just brings Laine to her chambers._

_Once the door shuts, Laine is on the other woman instantly, shedding both of their clothes. Tiring a woman out is Laine’s specialty, and she intends to perform tonight._

_Once Cerys is naked and sleeping, a soft and contented smile on her face, Laine stands. She wants the break to be clean, if she can make Cerys despise her, all the better. She moves to the dresser, where she’s seen Cerys stash coin. Taking the sizeable bag, she removes a single coin and places it in the spot that she found the rest, leaving the drawer open so that her betrayal it will be found easily._

_She steals a horse as well, riding down with the chill of morning making her shiver, she left Cerys’ coat behind. She doesn’t want the reminder of the woman, even if she’s shivering as she tries to make the horse move efficiently with its nervous and inexperienced rider._

_Leaving the horse tied with a few others on the docks, she barely bids the crew a good morning when she wakes them, stressing that they need to be out of this port yesterday._

_It’s only when the ship is heading rapidly towards the horizon that she looks back to see what she swears is a red-haired figure in the window of Kaer Trolde Keep, approximately where Cerys’ window should be._

Laine shakes her head, nothing has changed, she still can’t settle. Not for Cerys and not for anyone else. She pours herself some spirit, something she used to share with Odin every time they left port, something she’ll never have with him again. She wont leave Cerys with nothing again, but she’s not sure she’s ready to open her heart just yet.

She pours a second glass of spirit.


	8. Chapter 8

About halfway through their journey back, Geralt and Yennefer are in the main mess hall, eating dinner. The food on the ship is surprisingly delicious, something that Yen had doubted until she had tasted it for herself. The main cook, Eris, would take control of a few crew members each night and they would create a large quantity of rather unrefined, but delicious tasting food.

Tonight, the captain herself was occupying the kitchen, Eris had refused her help with cooking, stating that their wonderful captain did far too much for them already. Suspiciously, she was now allowing the elf to help her clean. She had whispered to Geralt and Yen as she passed by that everything that the captain tried to cook came out inedible, but that she was trying to spare her feelings.

The woman clearly adored the captain, if the way that she had been mothering over her since they lost their esteemed first mate is anything to go by. This is the first time since then that Laine has brought it on herself to interact with the crew for anything other than the bare minimum required for duties about the ship. The chef’s relief is palpable.

Now, through the open doors on the kitchen, an amused Geralt and a positively mutinous Yennefer are watching the elf and the halfling laugh and move about the small space, working together to put the kitchen back in order. Yen had been growing more and more restless at the almost total lack of sightings of her estranged daughter about the ship in the past week. Seeing her now, being doted on by an absolutely adoring motherly figure in the form of Eris was almost funny, if Geralt didn’t suspect that the sorceress was planning on cursing the kindly cook.

Yen notices his amused expression and huffs, leaning in to keep their conversation as private as possible in the loud and chaotic mess hall. “I’ve barely seen her in a week! She doesn’t seem to eat or take care of herself at all, and now that wretch is making her clean, she should be eating.” She sends another glare into the kitchen, which brightens almost instantaneously.

Geralt turns and sees that Eris has pushed Laine out of the kitchen, a plate piled high with food in one hand, and a generous tankard of Ale in the other.

Yen deflates when instead of sitting among the crew, she moves to the stairs that lead to the deck, no doubt taking her evening meal in the captain’s office again.

Geralt takes pity on Yen, raising a hand and waving before she can move out of sight, “Captain, a word?”

The elf in question pivots, as if taken off guard, and blinks dumbly in their direction. Geralt is surprised at the warmth he feels in his chest at the sight of the carefree look on her face after month of her heartbroken demeanor.

He began this journey caring for the significance she presented in Yen’s life, but never imagined the genuine care he’s started to feel for her. It’s hard to say if it’s truly the beginning of fatherly love, or if it’s just the afterglow of Yen’s parental instinct rubbing off on him.

Laine makes her way over to them and gives him a raised eyebrow in question, probably feeling strange about the longing look that Yen is giving her, given the darting looks she keeps giving the sorceress. Yen’s hand is currently tightening on his leg under the table, either a threat to keep her there, or perhaps a show of nerves.

“sit down” he nods to the empty seat across from them and the captain shrugs, placing her food and drink down roughly and dropping down onto the wooden bench.

She turns her attention towards Yen first, “are you feeling any better, Yennefer?” her voice shows evidence of genuine concern, though Geralt can tell that it’s a little put on. Yen however, usually good at reading people, is delighted.

“much better, thank you, the use of your ingredients helped immensely” Yen’s eyes are running over Laine’s face, committing it to memory, though she seems to be attempting to get herself under control.

Laine nods, “of course.” Before turning her attention to Geralt, shoving a forkful of meat into her mouth in a rather undignified manner, “what can I do for you Geralt?” she asks, once her mouth is mostly free of food.

Yen seems to wince slightly at her poor manners, eyes widening as the tiny girl takes a monstrous gulp of ale to wash down the rest of her mouthful.

Geralt, used to the pirate’s undignified ways, simply chuckles. “I was wondering what your plans were once we dock in Novigrad. I heard you were going to be taking a break from sailing.” It was a rumor he’d been hearing around the ship for a few days, he didn’t know how much truth there was to it.

She frowns, piling meat onto a soft slice of bread and taking another bite, shrugging as she does so.

“I have some loose ends to tie up, I’ll be heading to Velen, then I’ll come back to Novigrad and lose a few weeks in a brothel. If the Passiflora will have me back after my last stint there.” She chuckles frustratedly, “I’m beginning to run out of taverns it seems.”

Geralt chuckles good naturedly, chancing a glance down at Yen, who looks bewildered at the petite woman’s mannerisms. Geralt guesses that she hasn’t seen Laine in her more natural habitat until now and the reality of having a seasoned pirate for a daughter is beginning to dawn on her.

“Madam Serenity adores you, almost chased Triss and I off when we first came to speak to you” he chuckles. “didn’t want anyone bothering you.”

She snorts, holding a hand over her nose, presumably to stop ale coming out of it. Yen however, is not amused.

“You know Triss Merigold?” her voice has gone noticeably cold, and it gains the attention of those in the nearby vicinity, several large men inch themselves away from the cantankerous sorceress.

Laine, forever unphased, though her eyes narrow slightly, nods.

“Miss Merigold keeps hounding me to smuggle mages for her, I ended up doing her a favour earlier this year.” She sounds indifferent, but her back has stiffened slightly. Yen looks positively mutinous at this revelation and Geralt takes the cue to change the subject.

“either way, if you’re going to Velen, I hope you don’t mind if I join you. I have to visit the Bloody Baron, and travelling in numbers is safer.” His tone leaves no room for argument and he watches as her eyebrows raise.

“Right, well I’ll see how it goes, big place Velen, I’m sure we’re going in opposite directions.”

Good try, Geralt thinks, but when she leaves Novigrad, it won’t be alone. At least if the nails digging into his leg have any say in it.

******

“Yen, how could Triss have known?” Geralt asks for what seems like the 5th time.

Yen’s hands are thrown up into the air, exasperated. “how could she not know? I’ve only talked her ear off about the girl for the past 18 years”

“She didn’t, if she’d known she would have told you.” Geralt promises, making his way over and putting his arms around her.

Yen seems to deflate, “fine, but there’s no way she’s smuggling anything, I don’t want those witch hunters anywhere near her. And she’s not going to Velen alone, I won’t allow it.”

“So she’s only allowed regular pirate activities then.” Geralt chuckles, pulling her face up and placing a tender kiss on her lips, a hand tracing her jaw.

Yen takes a moment to process his words and then pulls away. “she doesn’t have to live like this anymore, she can come to Kaer Morhen with us.”

Geralt pulls back, “Yen.” He grimaces in disapproval, “don’t get that sort of thing in your head.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she steps back and crosses her arms over her chest. “She was stolen from me and made a slave for 18 years; she doesn’t have to be on this godawful ship anymore. Besides, if she’s at sea all the time I’ll never see her.” She’s speaking as though it’s the most logical line of thinking in the world. “she can’t _want_ this life Geralt, waiting for someone to stab her in the back like they did her friend.”

Geralt looks exasperated at her words, “I know it’s not my place.”

“No, Geralt, it’s not.” Yen’s voice is stern.

“But she won’t take kindly to you telling her what to do.” His voice is firm but kind. “she fits here.”

“Did you see her at dinner!? She’s barely a lady, shoving food and ale down her throat, she’s like a wild animal that doesn’t know where its next meal is coming from. I’ve a lot of work to do with her once this is all over.”

She’s making her way to the door while Geralt’s mouth tips up slightly at the return of his love’s regular pushy attitude. “where are you going?”

She turns back to him with challenge in her eyes.

“I’m going to tell her.”

*****

Laine sighs as she settles down at her desk, thinking fondly of the dinner spent with her crew, and with Geralt and Yennefer. It was nice, joking with Eris in the kitchen again, she was in a good mood for the first time in a long time. The kind of good mood you barely have to think about.

She thinks on Geralt’s request to travel to Velen together, and is surprised that she finds herself excited at the prospect, she doesn’t think she wants to be alone right now. It’s a foreign feeling. His gruff fatherly presence is a balm in her life with the loss of Odin’s fatherly role in her life. Her clear dismissal of his idea, and his clear dismissal of her dismissal, she supposes he won’t let her travel alone once they reach Novigrad.

Yennefer. The woman had stared at her all through dinner, that’s no different than usual, she can usually feel her eyes watching her whenever she leaves her office. The woman’s strange behavior is overshadowed by the sense of familiarity she can’t help but feel whenever she hears her voice.

Her internal musing is interrupted by a commotion out on the deck and she feels her ears twitch involuntarily as they try to pick up on the hushed voices. Squinting suspiciously, she moves to the door, her hand softly caressing the water softened wood as she strains her hearing.

“Yennefer, don’t, it’s not the right time.” Geralt’s voice is hushed. “I know you’re stressed about Ciri, and it’s hard to hold out right now when _she’s_ right there but… here, stuck on this ship, if it doesn’t go well-

“Why on earth would it not go well Geralt? I’ve been searching for 18 years and I can’t _take_ another week of pretending. I want to know her.” Yennefer sounds anguished, Laine puzzles the words over in her head. “the girl has been through enough, it’s time she had some relief. Some good news.

“She needs me as much as I need her, someone to guide her on the right path, I may not have been there before but I can be a mother for her now.” Yen sounds impassioned, but her words are pushing at a part of her mind that simply doesn’t want to put the pieces together.

Laine’s mind numbs, she’s heard enough; she doesn’t want to have whatever conversation that these two want to drop on her right now. She turns and makes her way back to her desk, lifting the hidden trapdoor that leads to her quarters down below.

She reaches the bottom and flops onto the bed, not even bothering to take of her gear or day clothes, her brain already becoming foggy.

As she’s settling into sleep, she hears a knock on the door upstairs and Yen’s tentative voice “Elle?” if she were more awake that name would have punched her in the gut. But it’s the first time she’s laid in the bed in far too long and she’s asleep in seconds.

_She’s standing on a crowded street, the last dregs of sunlight finally giving out, darkness is heavy in the shadows of the marketplace._

_She’s standing next to a woman, though she’s taller than anyone she’s ever seen before, in fact, the sea of legs around her suggests that she’s found her way into the middle of a sea of giants. The thought alone frightens her, and she can’t help but grab for the black clad legs that signify home. She finally recognizes the dream, the one she’s had all her life._

_The tall woman looks down at her and laughs lightly as Laine clings to her. She squats to her level and chucks Laine’s chin, her familiar violet eyes light with a playful glint. She frowns, the woman is Yennefer. She’s had this dream a thousand times and the woman has never had a face, just a warm and inviting aura._

_“come on, my love, I know it’s late. We’ll be back home in no time at all, we’re taking a portal, and I know how much you love those.”_

_Laine feels a grin tug at her lips and Yen’s hands come forward to frame her face, a soft kiss is placed on her forehead, then she stands again. She’s waiting for the merchant to finish with his customer, she half turns back, “keep close to me Ella, my love.” She turns back and the merchant finishes with his customer, looking to Yen, his expression drops into one of unease._

_His gaze moves to Laine, and then back to the sorceress, before he begins to answer her questions._

_Suddenly, Laine is yanked away, moving rapidly. The hot sweaty grip on her wrist as she’s dragged backwards, never getting the chance to gain her footing._

_She can’t see the Yen anymore, but she can hear a gasp, somewhere in the distance, “Elaine! Sweetie, where did you go?!” it’s Yennefer’s voice, the reason it’s so familiar, why she thinks she’s heard it before._

_“Mummy!” she screams, Yen’s calls becoming faint as the roar of the ocean consumes her._

Laine shoots up, with a scream dying in her throat, her breath is so heavy and rapid that she feels like she’s dying. She feels bile inching its way up her throat and jumps from the bed, tripping as her sheets tangle in her legs, she makes short work of untangling them and sprints to the small bathroom attached to her quarters.

A glorified, semi-permanent chamber pot sits in the room, which empties directly into the ocean. She falls on top of it just in time, unleashing her dinner directly into the pot.

She hears the door to her chambers open and suddenly there’s a hand in her hair, pulling the wild curls back from her face, shushing her gently.

She recognizes the voice immediately, but it only brings on another wave of nausea, her empty stomach contracting painfully as everything is expelled.

“Geralt, what’s wrong with her?” Yennefer’s panicked voice makes her groan, her dream being brought into the forefront of her mind once again.

“I think it was a nightmare, she has them, often.” Geralt’s gravelly voice is laced with worry. Laine wonders just how good his hearing is, that he can hear her thrashing in the night, careful never to let out a scream.

“Since when does a nightmare do this?” the cool hand now stroking her clammy forehead makes her smile involuntarily, the coolness is wonderful against her flush skin. “is it all out sweetness?”

She feels herself flinch at the words, the love filled voice that utters them, she pushes herself away violently and props herself against the wall. Yennefer, not her old captain, looks back at her with eyes filled with concern. There’s a hint of hurt in her eyes as Laine pulls away from her touch.

She remembers her dream, her nightmare, she doesn’t know which it is this time. The same one she’s had a thousand times before, but this time, much clearer. The Witcher is looking down at her from the doorway, concern also heavy in his gaze, she feels exposed at the attention. Exhaustion pulls at her, and she debates simply falling asleep where she sits, avoiding whatever revelation is tugging at her brain.

Yen appears in her line of vision, a tankard filled with water in her hands, “no no, sweetness, don’t fall asleep. Why don’t you wash your mouth out?”

The nickname makes her twitch again, she can’t bear to look at the woman for another moment, so she grabs the water and turns away. She swishes it in her mouth, washing the taste and burn of bile away, spitting it into the chamber pot. It’s the most she can ask of her body right now, and she feel the last dregs of strength leaving her.

The next few moments are a blur, she’s carried by strong arms to her bed, much needed softness after her ordeal. But the feeling of a weight next to her has her breath coming short again.

“Yen, we should go.” It’s Geralt’s gravelly voice that grounds her, she focuses on it to stop the spinning.

“I’m not leaving her alone like this.” Yen’s voice sounds scandalized. There’s the feeling of long nails performing soft ministrations on her scalp, and she feels herself relaxing involuntarily.

She doesn’t hear any more, the exhaustion and the soft bed pulling her under before she can order them both to get the hell out of her quarters.


	9. Chapter 9

**_“_ ** _Elaine, sweetness, come here.” The soft voice of captain Reynolds rouses her from her stupor. She’s not sleeping, but staring into nothingness, willing herself to disappear. She doesn’t respond, though she knows that this will only anger her captain, her tender 16-year-old body has been through enough tonight. She doesn’t have any interest in engaging the woman further, perhaps if she feigns sleep, she’ll be left alone._

_“Elaine, darling, get up. I won’t ask again.” Her voice is now less soft and more commanding than before, but still with an edge of sweetness to it. She’s always in a good mood after they’ve spent the night together, funnily enough, Elaine’s far less so. It’s as though the older woman is stealing her very essence, taking from her to sustain herself, the thought of it makes her sick._

_She prefers however, for the captain to be in a good mood, rather than having to deal with her becoming irate. Even though the only thing she wants to do right now is sleep, as evasive as sleep seems to her right now, she wants to be left alone._

_She pushes herself up slowly and turns to look at the woman, who smiles sweetly at her, a set of tools next to her at her rustic and water swelled wooden vanity._

_Dread fills Laine as she looks at the tools that the woman fiddles with, her sore and aching body can’t take much more punishment right now, but she knows the consequences of refusing._

_“Come here to me, my pet” she pats the chair in front of her. Elaine has no choice but to drag her unwilling body over to the captain. She sits, perpendicular to the woman, who’s preening like a peacock, excited about something. “now turn your back to me, and relax your shoulders, this needs to be perfect.”_

_She does as she’s told, though she can’t get the tense anticipation out of her muscles, turning her back to the captain goes against her instincts. There’s a sigh of light frustration, and cold hands begin to work over her, loosening the muscles along her shoulders._

_Her exhausted body begins to melt against her will, and the captain huffs in satisfaction, placing a light kiss to her neck. It feels wrong, she can feel her brain shutting down at the gesture, her subconscious hiding in a corner in her mind._

_“now sit up, you goose, I can’t hold you up and do this at the same time.” Her playful tone baffles Elaine, how the woman thinks she can joke, when_ Elaine _feels so empty, when the captain has just emptied her for her own selfish gain._

_She does as she’s told, stiffly finding a comfortable position, she knows she’ll be here for hours still. The feeling of the charcoal against the soft skin on her shoulder, softly tracing an image. There’s no discussion, she doesn’t know what image the older woman is preparing to etch permanently onto her skin, she supposes she’ll find out once it’s done._

_The woman is skilled, a talented artist, to be sure. Elaine is her canvas, not a person, just a vessel._

_The sketch doesn’t take long and soon enough, she hears the tools being taken from the vanity, she can’t even bring herself to tense to prepare for the pain. Probably a good thing, tense muscles will only make it hurt more._

_The next few hours are filled with the tool hitting into her skin, spreading ink under the surface, and the captain gushing about how gorgeous it will look against her complexion._

_She doesn’t care, it’s one more scar, she’ll likely die here so who cares what her body looks like. Once the captain is finally finished, she treats the new tattoo, wraps it to make sure it heals well. She then ushers Elaine back to the bed, showing her how to lay so that it remains unmarred. It wouldn’t do for her pet to be less than perfect. Then, she pulls Elaine towards her, placing a soft kiss on her lips._

_Elaine can’t find it in herself to respond, falling into an uneasy and painful sleep._

Waking is disorienting, she can feel the sheets heavy over her, even heavier than her headache. She’s parched, with vague memories of vomiting in the night. She turns and reaches for the tankard of water sitting next to her bed, drinking the whole thing in one go. Once she’s done, she turns and stares out the window, the soft morning light caressing her face.

There’s a movement next to her on the bed and she stiffens, horror flushing through her. There’s a body on the bed next to her, over the covers, she shrinks back as the woman turns to her.

“Sweetness? How do you feel?” the woman’s voice is marred with sleep, but heavy with concern.

She knows it’s not captain Reynolds, the raven hair is as different as possible from the captain’s long blonde tresses as it can be, but she’s still half asleep and working entirely on instinct. Despite her better judgement, Laine swiftly grabs the dagger she always has hidden under her pillow, and launches herself towards the sorceress.

Hearing that pet name does something to her, sends her almost feral, especially right after having that dream.

In barely a second, she’s on top of Yennefer, dagger to her throat. She’s aware that the woman could kill her with a single spell, but she needs control over the situation, she knows her face is probably set in a horrific sneer.

“Ella, you need to calm down, you’re safe.” Yennefer’s voice is soft, though there’s an edge of anxiety underlying her words.

Laine loosens her hold slightly as she processes the words, the dagger moving away from the sorceresses’ neck ever so slightly. “That’s it, let’s just calm down.” Her voice has an alarming effect on Laine, like coming home. She’s reminded of her dream from earlier in the night, Yen in place of her mother, and suddenly the dagger is back against the woman’s throat. Not close enough to cut, but close enough to be very dangerous.

The door bangs open and there’s suddenly a Witcher in the door, a sword in hand, and a scowl on his face.

“Geralt, don’t!!” Yen’s hands are held in front of her, clearly trying to placate the pirate, show her that she’s not a threat.

Laine sees Geralt pause for a moment from the corner of her eye, before he makes a gesture and a massive force pushes her directly off the bed. She hits the far wall before slamming down to the floor.

Pain lances through her shoulder as she hits the ground, barely a second passes before she twists herself up, her dagger is still clutched tightly in her hand.

“Elaine.” Yen stands herself up on Geralt’s side of the bed, her arms held out in surrender, trying to reason with the half feral elf in front of her.

Laine shakes herself, her brain finally catching up and processing that she’s safe, in her private quarters. Her old captain is dead, has been for years.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed!?” she exclaims, looking between the woman and the Witcher in front of her.

“You we’re ill last night, I remained with you to ensure you were alright.”

Laine remembers the dream she’d had, the one that caused her to wake up and be sick. Yennefer, her conversation with Geralt outside the door yesterday, her resulting dream.

She’d never had a face put to the mysterious woman who called for her in the dream, Yennefer had called her Ella, even in her waking moments. She couldn’t even begin to process this right now, Yennefer couldn’t have been her birth mother, sorceresses are sterile. She’s not an elf.

But the motherly concern being projected towards her right now, even when moments before she’d held a dagger to the woman’s throat, it’s making her doubt. She can feel her body calming simply from Yen’s presence. There’s a hint of bile returning to the back of her throat at the thought.

“Sweetness, your face.” Yen looks and sounds anguished, and Laine can feel the resulting flinch in her cheekbone, the exact place that she’d collided with the wall.

“Don’t call me that.” The dagger comes back up, and Geralt’s grip tightens on his sword. It’s clear that despite whatever connection she and Yennefer share, he won’t let the pirate harm her, even if he needs to use that sword.

The sorceress seems at a loss for what to say to her, and Laine can feel herself shriveling, walls coming up.

“I won’t call you that, I promise, but we need to talk and we can’t do that until you put the knife down.” Yen seems to be steeling herself for something.

“I’m not talking about anything with you, now get. out.” her walls are piled as high as she can get them.

“I’ve been searching for my daughter for nearing two decades, I’ve never stopped since you were taken from me on that dock, and I will not be dismissed now. Not when I’ve finally found you.” Yen has taken on a persona she hasn’t seen before, almost reprimanding.

“How is that possible? look at me!!” Laine gestures between them, a dark-skinned elf next to an ivory human sorceress, she scoffs, “you’re wrong.” She almost feels like she’s begging the woman to tell her it’s not true.

“Matters of blood mean nothing to me, you’re mine, the necklace around your wrist is proof enough of that. And I will not simply lay down and lose you again without a fight.” The woman is impressive in her strength and resolve, Laine can’t help but feel a deep sense of respect for her.

She knows now that her dream was not a dream at all, but a memory, warped by her childlike brain and simply muddled to feel dream-like.

But she cannot accept this, her mind won’t let her, the consequences that it will have in her mind just aren’t worth it. She looks down at the necklace wrapped around her wrist, she would take it off, throw it in the ocean if she could. But it’s the only thing she has that ties her to herself, it simply means too much to her.

Feeling secure enough that they won’t harm her outright, Laine places her dagger into a sheath on the belt that she was too tired to change out of last night, then moves to the door.

Before she leaves, she turns and faces a hopeful looking Yennefer, and a wary Geralt.

“I’ve already killed one mother figure; the last thing I need is another.” And with that, she pushes past them, storms out of her quarters and starts her day.

*****

Geralt guides Yen to their room and closes the door. He turns to look at Yen, who looks shell shocked after the eventful morning. He decides he should try and lighten the mood, get her out of her own head.

“Well that was interesting.”

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t know you; she’s lashing out because she doesn’t know what else to do.” He moves over to her; she’s sitting on the bed with her head cradled in her hands. He kneels, lifting her head up and examining her neck, there’s a faint line there, but nothing that will scar, it doesn’t even look like it broke skin. Satisfied that she wasn’t physically hurt by the encounter, he sits next to her and draws her into an embrace, “you missed the teenage years, she’s just helping you catch up.”

That does it, Yen moves herself to sit on Geralt’s lap and scoffs into his neck, “I still had to deal with Ciri’s teenage years, I think I’ve done my time.” She sobers, leaning back to look at him. “I don’t know what to do… she doesn’t want me… but I can’t live without her. How can I explain that when she doesn’t want to hear it?”

Geralt’s glad she’s not giving up, it’s just not in her nature.

“I told you before, she’s as stubborn and strong willed as you are.” He rubs at her sides to soften the blow, “she needs to know she can trust you, that takes time.”

“Well how do you deal with me then? if we’re so alike?” she grumps, slumping against him.

“You’ll find a way, I know you. At the very least, I know you won’t give up.” He kisses her softly and she reciprocates. After a moment she pulls away, clearly too focused on her daughter to be distracted by his charms.

“What did she mean, she’s already killed one mother figure?”

Geralt grimaces, “she told me in Novigrad that the only mother she’d ever known was the last captain of this ship, the woman who bought her from slavers. She didn’t speak very highly of her; I didn’t know she killed her.”

The words seem to wound Yen, who stiffens in his hold. The idea of her daughter not remembering their time together when Yen remembers it so fondly, so vividly, he knows it’s upsetting for her.

“I can’t even _think_ of anyone treating her poorly. Someone else got to raise my daughter, and now she’s sharp, and alone, and angry. I wasn’t there to stop it.” Her voice breaks, she’s crying, he wraps his arms around her and squeezes her tightly.

“You’re here now.” He whispers into her raven hair.

*****

Laine’s not sure how to feel, she flits to every station on the ship, making sure that everyone is doing their jobs correctly. The ship is in working order and there are no issues, for once in her life. She just wants a problem to fix, something to distract her.

She stops by the kitchen and grabs some breakfast before heading to the helm and just steering for a while. She wants to think, but she doesn’t want to be alone, so pretending she’s just a part of the crew for a while is the perfect happy-medium.

She sends the men stationed there down for a break and relaxes, ensuring that their heading is correct, making small adjustments for the wind.

She’d stopped past her office and grabbed her captain’s hat, it’s hanging on a small pole next to her, but it’s a comfort to have next to her. Odin had gotten it for her when she first became captain, having it next to her feels like he’s with her.

There’s a young Elven mage in the crow’s nest. The crew has christened him Crow, because since he came aboard the ship, he’s spent most of the time up there.

He’s there now, just keeping watch. There’s nothing to see, but she knows that he’s watching out, it’s a small comfort when her world has just been turned upside down.

With nothing else happening on deck, she’s forced to analyze what’s just happened between her, Geralt and Yennefer.

She’s self-sabotaging, she knows it too, but she can’t seem to help closing herself off. She remembers dreaming of this when she was a child, for her real mother to swoop in and give her love, the kind of love she never got from Reynolds. But it’s too late for that now, the idea of a mother in her mind is someone who hurts, who manipulates and controls. She doesn’t want it, she’s fine without it, has been for long enough. 

Her hand reaches back and hovers over her shoulder, where the tattoo depicting several flying ravens resides, the one she remembers receiving in her dream last night. The memory, receiving the tattoos that adorn her, they’re bad memories. But they’re also intrinsically a part of who she is, she knows that she wouldn’t remove them if given the option.

Geralt, when they first met, he always paid attention to her bracelet. Asked about her mother and her childhood, wouldn’t stop talking about Yennefer and how wonderful she is. He knew, from their first meeting, he ambushed her like this. Now her mother is on the ship, she can’t avoid her, at least not easily.

It’s clear that the sorceress isn’t going to let this go.

She sighs, placing her head on the massive wheel, she can’t have another mother. She’ll simply keep away from her as much as it’s possible on a ship, placate her, and then once they reach Novigrad they’ll leave and go their separate ways. Just a week.

Her musing is interrupted by a yell from the crow’s nest.

“Captain, approaching ship! On our starboard flank!” crow’s voice reaches out to her slumped form and she shoots up instantly. She turns to look, but not before catching the eye of Yennefer, who’s come up from below deck seemingly just to stare at her. Laine ignores her and turns her attention to where the boy directs her.

A feral grin lights her face, and she places two fingers in her mouth, letting out a shrill whistle to call on the rest of the crew. On the horizon, a Nilfgaardian warship is heading straight for them, the perfect distraction.

She primly places her captain’s hat on her head and turns back to the deck, Geralt’s joined Yennefer, he’s holding her and staring at the chaos of everyone gathering together. He seems to be focusing on not getting trampled in the confusion.

Once she has a full crew in front of her, they've seen the ship and she can see that they're eager for action, waiting for her orders.

Laine clears her throat from her perch at the helm, there are close to thirty sailors in front of her, each of them loyal enough to her. She heaves herself up, standing on the railing to give herself some extra height.

“There’s a delivery about to reach us, word has it they don’t want to give up their goods, but we’re in the business of coercion. So, what say we do what we do best and get to convincing them?”

There’s a roar of excitement from the crew and it’s the most alive she’s felt in months. Since that bad fisstech drop ages ago, her confidence has been low. This is the kick she needs to get back into it.

While the crew calms down she shoots a look down at Yen, who’s looking up with fear and disapproval, she shoots a wink in her direction before addressing the crew once more. If her pseudo mother disapproves, all the better for her, two birds with one stone.

“You know the rules, we don’t take prisoners, not unless they’re civilian women, children, or prisoners themselves. Otherwise they’re Nilfgaardians, ridding the world of a few rats, we’re doing the world a favor.” she nods at them and they disperse, last minute she tacks on, “Crow! come and see me please!”

She sees the boy’s eager head pop out from the crow’s nest, eyes wide, a grin on his face. He slides himself down to the main deck and sprints up the stairs, meeting her as she drops down from the railing, he stands to attention and she can’t help but grin at his enthusiasm.

She grabs her captain’s hat and places it on his little head, it sinks over his eyes and he has to adjust it.

“Temporary promotion sailor, can I trust you to be my first mate?” the kid lights up, a beaming smile crossing his face.

“Yeah!” then he frowns, “what do I have to do?”

Laine crosses her arms across her chest, “well, you have to take over my duties while I'm over there having fun. Now, where do I spend all my time?”

“uhhhh” he’s thinking hard about it, “captain’s office?” he points with his thumb to her office and Laine nods in approval.

“exactly, so I want you to go in there and do what I do all day." he nods, almost looks like he's preparing to take notes. "Make sure my stuff doesn’t roll around everywhere.”

He’s 14, so him believing her is a long shot. If the deadpan look he sends her is anything to go by, he doesn’t buy it.

“That is _not_ what you do all day.” He crosses his arms over his chest in protest, matching her stance exactly.

She pokes her tongue out at him, “is too! Anyway, that’s an order kiddo, if you’re good you can fight with us in 4 years or so.”

He huffs and turns on his heel, making his way over to shut himself in her office, groaning dramatically the whole time. Her oversized captain’s hat still sits on his head. She watches him go and shakes her head fondly.

Captain Reynolds had her out and watching sieges from the age of 12, she saw things that haunt her to this day, and she’s careful that crow doesn’t experience the same thing.

Yennefer races up the stairs next, fury written on her face, Geralt a few steps behind her as always. Laine turns and leans against the railing to face her, a sardonic smile on her face.

“what do you think you’re doing?” Yen seems to be trying to keep calm, but the frustration is obvious.

“I'm not doing anything, the Nilfgaardians are attacking _us,_ I'm just getting ready to defend the ship.” She says sweetly.

She looks ready to pull out her hair, “it’s a warship, they’ll crush you, are you mad!? I serve Emperor Emhir, I cannot under any circumstances, be seen.”

Laine scoffs, “you know, it’s a little insulting that you think I’d leave witnesses. If you’re so worried about being seen with me you can just conjure a portal and be on your way.”

She turns her back to the sorceress and moves down to her office to grab her twin set of cutlasses.

Crow is slumped in her desk chair with a grumpy look on his face and she ruffles his hair as she passes him, before slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside.

Yen is standing there when she turns around, arms crossed and tapping her foot. “I am _not_ finished with you.”

Laine groans, “oh goody, well then, what would you have me do? They’re coming either way, and I’d like to have some fun.”

“We must attempt an escape! I know what they’re capable of, we don’t stand a chance. We’re smaller, therefore faster, we can outrun them.” Her voice turns pleading, and Laine groans.

“You sought passage on a pirate ship, now deal with the consequences.” With that, she turns on her heel and makes her way back to the helm to see how far they are from meeting the ship. There are crew members everywhere, grabbing weapons and preparing for their first siege in months.

Yennefer and Geralt are matching pace just behind her, one far angrier than the other. A peek reveals that the ship is only minutes away, but she spares a moment to address the woman again.

“what exactly did you expect sailing on a pirate ship? A smooth, peaceful voyage?” she questions, poking at the woman may not make her go away, but at least it’s satisfying.

“I expected to reunite with my daughter, not watch her get blown up by being a reckless fool.” Yen’s scathing words twinge at her, she’s worried about Laine getting hurt, it’s a first for her.

Rather than softening her however, it has the opposite effect, something in her brain just switches shut at the woman’s attempts to keep her safe.

“lucky for you, _mother_ , you don’t have to watch. If you’re not going to help, then at least get out of sight.”

With that, she turns away, moving to speak with a crew member. This time, she isn’t followed.


	10. Chapter 10

Geralt pulls Yen to the side to stop her from doing something stupid, she looks like she’s seconds away from throttling her daughter. “Yen, love, let it go.” He knows it’s impossible, but he wants to try talking her down. He moves her down to the main deck and away from prying ears, the wind is picking up, loud and intrusive.

Yen’s hair moves chaotically with it, he wonders for a second if she’s doing something, if the weather is linked to her emotions.

“she’s going to get herself killed Geralt! I can’t just let it happen, if I can get her through a portal before they reach us...”

“she’ll never forgive you” he interrupts her panic, “help her. If we help, we can win.”

Yen stares out at the approaching warship, it’s almost upon them, “she’s really a pirate, isn’t she?”

Their attention moves to the captain standing at the helm, she’s staring at the approaching warship with excitement tensing every facet of her body.

“Yeah, Yen. She really is.”

*****

Laine waits until after they’ve been boarded to attack, she’s got half the crew lined up on deck to greet the Nilfgaardians. She’s surprised to see Yen and Geralt standing in the background, not in formation, but still in view. She thought for sure the woman would protect her own interests.

The man who first boards the ship is covered head to toe in armor and has a smirk on his face. There’s a contingent of around 15 men who join him, and Laine can see around 15 more on the ship behind him, though who knows how many are below deck. He ignores her at first, searching each face in front of him, pausing as he spots Yen and Geralt, but not commenting.

Eventually, he turns his attention to her, sneering down at her. She refuses to be cowed, simply standing tall and raising a brow, “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He sniffs in her direction, “piracy is illegal in these waters, you will submit yourselves to Nilfgaard and the emperor, at once!” he then turns his attention to Yen, “Mage, you will answer to your master for your presence here.”

Laine smirks, studying the man from top to bottom. What would look sultry to some, is actually her studying the man’s armor, there’s an uncovered soft spot between his groin and his leg. Jackpot.

“No, I don’t think we will, actually.”

She then stomps her foot hard on the deck, twice in quick succession, sending a signal to the rest of the crew down below.

There’s a massive, earsplitting bang, their ship sways precariously as their cannons fire directly into the Nilfgaardian ship. The man seems shocked, stumbling with the unexpected movement, all 15 soldiers turning to look at their ship which has been blasted back several feet and is now taking on a dangerous amount of water.

Laine and her crew keep their feet, though Geralt and Yennefer stumble, caught off guard. Maybe she should have briefed them on the plan.

While the leader is distracted, she shoves her dagger directly into the crease she’d identified in his armor, causing him to crumple where he stands. Now that he’s on her level she takes one of her cutlasses and slashes his throat. He’s dying by the time the rest of his men have even reacted to his sounds of pain.

The cannon fire has pushed both ships away from each other by several feet, so the plank that the Nilfgaardians used to board them is now sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Their ship has also dropped several feet, so there’s no way for the remaining men to continue boarding them. Leaving those who first boarded entirely without backup.

The rest of her crew come up from manning the cannons and her people begin attacking, the Nilfgaardians are now vastly outnumbered.

Seeing this, Laine grabs a rope and swings herself directly onto the opposing warship,

“oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!” she hears Yennefer swear as she goes.

She lands on the deck of the enemy ship and pulls out her cutlasses, striking a man down as he comes at her, her sword goes directly into the soldier’s armpit and he screams shrilly as he goes down.

There are thuds as several of her crew members follow her onto the ship, and soon, a second battle is underway. She almost gets her head cleaved off by another soldier, but he’s forcibly pushed away at the last second, his blade slicing a line into her shoulder instead. She looks up to find Geralt, he’s used the same magic he’d used on her this morning and is now glaring at her furiously.

She throws her head back and lets out a joyous laugh as she swiftly kills the soldier who was just about kill her. Beaming up at Geralt, whose expression does not change, she shrugs, “well _I’m_ having fun.”

The battle continues on, though not for much longer.

Laine makes it a game to find new spots in the men’s armor every time she kills one. The ship continues to sink, though it’s all part of the fun. One of the men she’s fighting goes down in flames at one point, she blinks in surprise at the unexpected win, she’d been beginning to waver.

There was a real possibility that the man was going to seriously wound her. When she looks for the source of the fire, she sees Yen looking her over before rejoining the battle on her side.

Eventually there are no more Nilfgaardians to fight, the enemy ship continues to sink and the rest of her crew climb their ropes back up to The Plague Maiden.

Laine however, has her sights set on other things. She makes her way to the captain’s office and kicks the door hard, breaking the lock with her sturdy boots. There’s chest of coins that makes her grin to herself as she hefts it out the door, a set of lovely daggers goes directly into her jacket pocket.

The rest of the room’s contents is made up of important documentation that will make its new home in the bottom of the ocean.

As she’s exciting the office, she comes face to face with a grumpy witcher, who stands over her with an eyebrow raised in disapproval. She ignores him as she pushes the heavy chest of coin over to the side of the ship. 

“Yennefer would like to request that you vacate the sinking ship.” His dead pan voice makes her laugh lightly.

She gestures for one of the mages to bring the chest over to their side and then turns to him.

“I’m not done; _you_ vacate the sinking ship.” she tries to move past him, but is stopped short when he grabs her arm, she lets out a frustrated breath.

“there could be prisoners below deck.”

She’s surprised a few seconds later when he actually releases her, instead, moving to follow her lead. But before she can get down to the lower deck, the entire ship shudders, then begins to rise slowly.

Looking around, she sees a forcefield has formed around the ship as it’s magically pulled from the water. Looking back toward The Maiden, she sees Yennefer, straining herself with a spell. She’s holding the entire ship up alone, Laine lets out an impressed breath, making eye contact with the sorceress.

She sends a nod of thanks to the older woman and rushes down, making use of what little time Yen is affording them.

Geralt seems to think it’s the perfect time for a lecture.

“You could give Yen a break, you know.” He tells her gruffly from her right flank.

She rolls her eyes as she’s throwing open doors, looking for a way down further. “whatever for? So she can order me around some more?”

“She’s terrified of losing you again.” He gestures to a door he just checked, showing a staircase leading down.

She nods to him and descends, continuing, “not my problem, witcher.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly at her once they reach the bottom, “when are you going to stop running from any form of real affection or intimacy?”

She turns and fixes him with a look of pure bewilderment, calf deep in water, “is it really the time for this!?”

She turns, hopefully putting an end to this horrifying conversation, he seems to comply for the time being.

There’s a family of humans in the brig who were arrested for not complying with Nilfgaardian raids, standing in water up to their knees, Laine asks Geralt to break open the water damaged door. He obliges, and Laine gives the abridged version of why they’re here.

The ship is beginning to shudder slightly, she knows that the spell won’t last for much longer, time to go.

She leads them to the top deck and sends them up the ropes to The Maiden before her. She notices that Yen’s spell, while still holding strong, is beginning to take its toll on her. There’s line of sweat down her forehead and her hands are beginning to shake.

Once the family is on the deck, they throw the ropes back to Geralt and Laine, who waste no time getting back to their own ship.

Once they’re firmly planted, they look to Yen, who’s eyes are closed tight from the strain of holding up an entire warship on her own. The rest of the crew are looking at her with apprehension, some with pity, in the case of the other mages.

Something in her stomach twists, why aren’t the other mages helping her?

The sorceress forces her eyes open and examines her first, then Geralt, before she releases the spell. It does not happen easily, a pained scream expels from her as she lets go, the ship behind them slams back into the ocean.

Two things happen then, first, Yen collapses onto the deck. She’s breathing rapidly and struggling to hold herself up, Laine is surprised at the panic that grips her at the sight.

Second, the resulting wave from the weight of the other ship crashing back into the ocean causes _their_ ship to tilt dangerously, almost throwing several people into the ocean as it does.

Geralt lunges to help Yen while Laine sprints to the helm to get the ship under control. It’s as she’s pushing against the wheel that she notices how badly her shoulder hurts, but it’s not so bad that she can’t continue.

It takes a while, but eventually they’re no longer in danger of tipping directly into the ocean.

Taking a second to breathe, Laine leans over the deck and looks for Geralt and Yen, they’re still in the exact place that Yen fell. Geralt is holding her and speaking softly, she seems to be responsive, but she’s pale and shaking.

“Geralt!!” Laine yells across the ship, he and Yen both turn in her direction at the sound of her voice. “Is she alright!? Do you need anything!?”

He waves her off, though he looks concerned, Yen is staring at her with something akin to horror on her face.

Laine stands and addresses the crew, “all hands-on deck, I want a healer with Yennefer, and someone let Crow out of my office!”

Now that the ship is under control, she plans to get them back on course for Novigrad. Then she plans to shut herself in her office and count the coin she pilfered from the attack.

Her plans are dashed when she sees Geralt grab Eris as she returns from being holed up in the kitchen. The Witcher nods in her direction and they both look at her, Eris noticeably pales when she catches sight of her, it’s then that the lightheadedness starts to hit.

She leans forward to support herself on the railing and sees Yen trying to stand, though her vision is becoming blurred, Geralt pushes her back down and she yells something at him. Laine’s ears twitch, trying to hear what’s being said, make sense of her surroundings.

Eris is suddenly next to her, her mouth is moving but she can’t hear what she’s saying, it almost sounds like she’s underwater.

******

Yen’s trying to stand, but Geralt won’t let her, she’s too weak to overpower him. “Geralt, there’s too much blood, I can heal her.” She’s clutching his arm, he shakes his head, “you need to rest, you’re going to hurt yourself permanently. She has healers, they’ll take care of her, she’s put you in enough danger.”

If Yen had the energy, she could probably find a way to argue otherwise, but alas she’s far too tired. Holding an entire warship up for that long has totally exhausted her magic.

She simply watches Laine, who’s being fussed over by the halfling and a few other crew members. She’s trying to wave them off of course, stumbling as she does, her weight leaning on the railing of the helm. She’s covered in blood that seems to be stemming from her shoulder wound, it was bad to begin with, but the pressure she’d placed on it afterwards as she was stopping the ship from going under seems to have elevated the wound to a dangerous level.

There’s someone there, healing her wound with a spell, they don’t seem particularly panicked.

Yen relaxes, letting herself rest for the first time since she first collapsed, Geralt takes it as his cue to lift her up.

He carries her below deck in a bridal carry, taking her to a large room she hasn’t seen before, clearly an infirmary of sorts. The room is warm, a stark difference from the rest of the ship, and there’s a pleasant, floral smell about it.

He sets her down on one of the four beds in the room, and kneels next to her, his hand holding hers.

“How are you feeling?” his gravelly voice is a real comfort for her.

“I feel fine, simply winded, honestly.” She plays with the lapels of his shirt distractedly.

Their silence is interrupted when two of the crew burst in, a human man and an elven woman, carrying a figure between them. They’re taking great care to ensure that the captain is held straight as they place her on the bed adjacent to Yen. A frazzled looking man, who Yennefer assumes is the healer, follows behind them.

The captain is still conscious, and bleeding considerably less, though she’s no less belligerent. She lightly slaps the elven woman’s hand away when she attempts to hold her down.

“Oh stop fussing, I'm perfectly fine, the wound is basically healed.” She sits herself up and frowns as she searches her surroundings “I thought I requested to be taken to my quarters. I have things to do you know!” she’s acting well, but there’s pain in her voice.

The healer scoffs as he searches for something among his various bottles.

“Your wound is barely closed, I must regain my strength before I can continue healing you, and you will remain here until I release you.” He turns to her and fixes her with a no-nonsense glare. “you may be captain out there, but in here, my word is law.”

Yennefer almost expects her to throttle the man, with the control she’s seen her keep on this ship, the way that the crew have a healthy fear of crossing her. What she doesn’t expect is the girl, and she really does look like a girl right now, to cross her arms and pout like a petulant child.

The image is so different to the formidable pirate captain who stood on a railing and inspired a group of warriors. Or the woman who she watched take down 10 men on an enemy ship with barely a scrap of armor. The sight of it makes her ache, but it also makes her heart sing.

She’s heartbroken that this girl can be so free with her crew, when she’s treated Yennefer with such disdain. But joyful that the smiling little girl she once knew isn’t fully lost to the vicious woman she’s seen her become.

“Grace, can you do anything for Yennefer?” Yen blinks in surprise when Laine asks the question.

“Oh no, I'm fine, honest. I just need to catch my breath, recover naturally.” She doesn’t want any magic that could go into healing Laine, going to her.

The Healer shakes his head, “She’ll be fine in a few hours I’m sure, you need the help far more urgently, captain.”

The girl waves him off, “I’m fine, I—” she cuts herself off with a yawn, “Just need a nap and I’ll be right as rain.”

She settles into the bed and Yen can tell that she’s struggling to keep her eyes open, she shakes her head every so often to wake herself up, but the motion becomes more and more lethargic.

When the healer is finally strong enough to continue his healing, she’s fast asleep.

*****

Laine is forced to spend most of the voyage home on bedrest, in the infirmary, she relays orders to her people and they leave to carry them out. she just has to trust that they’re following those orders, without checking for herself, to say that it’s a nightmare is an understatement.

Yen doesn’t stay long, she’s out of the infirmary by the next morning, though she mostly spends her time visiting, clearly taking advantage of Laine not being able to run away.

It’s actually nice, Laine thanks the woman for what she did, despite the danger it put her in. The woman seems surprised. Laine is surprised herself at the begrudging respect she feels for the woman.

But sitting in bed for this long is the exact opposite of what she wants to be doing. Grace can’t heal the wound completely, it still needs time to stop being a liability, she understands but she can’t help feeling restless.

She’d gotten her frustration out by getting all the mages into the infirmary and berating them for not aiding Yen during the battle.

“If I ever see you watching an ally risk themselves without lifting a finger to help, I will send you _all_ overboard. Am I clear?!?”

She’s glad that she can still inspire a terrified reaction from her crew when she’s prone and injured, she’s sure she looks pathetic, but they still hang their head and avoid her eyes and rush from the room when she finally dismisses them.

Yennefer’s not in the room at the time but when she returns from the afternoon meal there’s a smile playing on her lips and Geralt, who’s been icy towards her since Yen was hurt, is clearly softening towards her.

Yen sits next to her on the fifth night that she’s been stuck in bed, placing a bowl of some type of stew in her lap and relaxing herself into the chair she’s claimed as her own, a fond smile on her face as Laine nods in thanks and digs in.

Laine begins to slurp a little, trying to stop a grin from forming when her table manners make the older woman cringe. They may have some kind of temporary truce, but making the woman squirm by being the worst daughter possible is still an endless game, even if she never really takes the bait.

She finishes her evening meal and after a while of sitting in silence, she decides to broach the topic of the woman’s other daughter,

“So, Ciri, what kind of trouble is she in?” she shoots a look at Yen whose shoulders have gone stiff and her expression a mix of stormy and heartbroken.

“The Wild Hunt, they search for her, we _must_ find her before they do. She was looking for us, Geralt learned that much, but we continue to miss each other.” The woman’s grief filled voice is like a shard in Laine’s heart.

She cares for her daughter so much, it’s plain as day, she’s surprised at the jealousy that stings at her, that Ciri grew up with a mother that loved her so much. She has someone who she can run to when she’s in trouble. Yet Laine had it ripped from her, and now she can’t even accept that love for herself.

She feels like a petulant child who’s jealous of another’s toy, so much so that when it’s finally offered to her she ruins it, destroys it so that no one gets to play with it.

She knows that if she lets her guard down that she can be the receiver of the same caliber of motherly affection and worry, but she’s dug her own grave deep enough, returning to a blank slate between them would be far too hard.

“What’s next? where are you looking next?”

Yen frowns, “In Velen, Geralt saw a creature, the same creature that was seen by a villager in Skellige. Ciri’s last known location. There’s a chance that Ciri was cursed to become this creature, either that or it’s someone who can help us find her.

“Geralt must collect it from the bloody baron and bring it to Kaer Morhen, then we must find a way to lift the curse” she sighs, rubbing her eyes in an uncharacteristic show of exhaustion.

Laine feels like ice is splintering in her heart. This woman, this mother, is grieving for her children. One is lost and the other wants nothing to do with her, and she’s still kind, she won’t give up because her love is unconditional.

She’s being pulled in two directions and all Laine knows how to do is push her away and antagonize her.

She places her hand on the other woman’s and lightly clears the thickness in her throat. The woman twitches slightly in surprise, looking between her and their clasped hands.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this, I’m bad at human interactions and relationships. I’m a broken thing, i—.”

Yen moves to protest, but Laine stops her, “Maybe it’s being in bed for far too long with nothing to do but think, but I’ve been reflecting. I’ve been an immeasurable ass to you and I’m sorry.”

Yen is speechless, mouth gaping open in surprise, the silence widening like a chasm between them. Laine feels herself cringing, she shouldn’t have opened her big mouth, she tries to take her hand away but feels Yen turn her hand to grab it before she can move.

After far too long a silence, Yen speaks, her voice is more unsure than she’s ever heard it “Laine, I…. can I… hold you?”

Laine’s face morphs into one of complete bafflement, “i—I mean— _what_? I don’t, um… I guess? If you—” she’s cut off from her complete lack of diction by Yen reaching forward and pulling her into a hug. It’s not too tight to be restrictive but is also completely supportive, she can feel Yen’s warmth and love seeping into her pores.

Her body, starting out stiff and unresponsive, begins to relax. She begins to relax so much, Yen’s careful ministrations running along her back, that she feels her body begin to tremble.

It’s with mounting horror that she realizes that she’s going to cry, not a grief filled sob, like when she was holding Odin’s lifeless body in the hold. This is a soul wrenching; gut storming hole being filled inside of her. It’s a pressure that needs to be released, and the tears that are threatening her is the excess, trying to find its way out.

Geralt, who’s been a silent party to the whole ordeal, clearly receives a signal from Yen, the door shutting quietly behind him as he leaves them alone.

“it’s alright my love, you’re safe” Yen squeezes her tightly, clearly feeling her shaking and to her own mounting horror, she lets out a half-choked sob in response. She chances actually placing her arms around the other woman, returning the hug. In response, Yen relaxes fully, her frame letting out a sigh of complete relaxation.

It feels like hours that they hold each other, when they finally let go, Yen’s tears have long since dried up. Her face is still damp.

Laine doesn’t even apologize; they’ve shared something so strangely intimate that to apologize for it seems disingenuous.

“I hope you find Ciri, I wish you luck. If I can be of any help…” She smiles softly at Yen, who looks as close to ‘at peace’ for the first time ever since she’s seen her, smiling fondly at her.

Yen takes the opportunity to wipe the tears from her face, leaving her hands to cradle the Laine’s cheeks, letting out a contented sigh as she does.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with us…” her voice is hopeful, yet cautious.

“What?” Laine’s confusion seems to bolster Yen as she continues.

“You _need_ a break from all of this. Travel with Geralt to collect Uma and then join us. You can do what you were originally going to do in Velen and then you can help us find Ciri.”

Yen makes it sound so simple, but that’s a big ask, to go from complete avoidance to undertaking some epic quest together. She almost dismisses the idea out of hand.

“I can’t just… I have a ship to run, I can’t just up and abandon my responsibilities.” She’s sputtering, trying to find some excuse, even though the idea of a break sounds pretty good right now.

“Ships lay idle in the Novigrad docks for years.” She turns away suddenly not looking Laine in the eye “I need to _see_ you for a while. Know where you are, who’s with you, and that you’re safe. I’ve spent so long not knowing.”

She makes up for the previous lack of eye contact by turning and gripping Laine’s hand, staring pleadingly into her eyes “I know it’s a lot to ask and I _know_ that you still don’t trust me… but if you don’t give me the opportunity…”

Laine grips her hand back, “Okay… I’ll come to Kaer Morhen.” She clears her throat a little, “I need to go and store some of Odin’s things in the house I have in Velen, things I want to keep safe, then I’ll join you.”

Yen’s response is a beaming smile, her eyes are shining, her hand giving Laine’s a squeeze. “Thank you.” Her voice is solemn, she’s clearly trying not to go overboard, and her respect for her skittish daughter is oddly touching.

Laine shares a shy smile with the sorceress, hoping against hope that she hasn’t just made a horrible mistake.


	11. Chapter 11

The ship docks in Novigrad without much fuss. Laine’s shoulder is completely healed, thanks to grace and Yen taking turns to heal her throughout the rest of the voyage.

She’d spent the last few hours of the trip ensuring that everyone had their pay and knew that the ship wouldn’t be operating but for a skeleton crew, and that the lull would last indefinitely. There were many who didn’t have a place to live when they weren’t on the ship, those would be invited to remain if they wished.

Though they don’t have private quarters, a soft place to sleep and a hot meal is all a man really needs.

She’d had a conversation with one of her human crew members who’d mentioned that his brother had wanted to try his hand at starting a merchant business, but didn’t want to commit to buying a ship.

She’d offered to rent the ship to him, so that it wouldn’t spend too long sitting in the Novigrad docks, and he’d agreed gleefully. She wasn’t particularly worried about him double crossing her, and if he did, she was reasonably sure that she could track him down and slit his throat.

A sentiment that she heartily shared with him, the look on his face convinced her that she wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

She’d also ensured that the family they’d rescued from the Nilfgardians knew where they were going, she gave them a small amount of coin to help them find their way but offered no other assistance. She’s a pirate, not a damn charity, even if she does feel like she’s going soft.

From the moment they docked and left the ship, Geralt wouldn’t leave her side, looming over her like a dark shadow. He probably still thought she was going to make a run for it.

Yennefer also hovered, but that was nothing new, she seemed far more relaxed now that she’d gotten an agreement from Laine about meeting at the fortress.

Laine was apprehensive. Spending extended amounts of time, first with Geralt, then with Yen. The thought both frightened and excited her. She’d wrestled an agreement from the Witcher that he would give her combat lessons, he moved with a grace and precision in battle that she could only dream of, she’d be stupid to let their long trip go to waste.

She was eager to try something new, her breakthrough with Yen was something that was still scary to her, letting her walls down was clearly something that she would have to practice.

Her body still locks up whenever Yen places a hand on her, running over her shoulder, or lightly touching the small of her back. Little touches that she knew helped the older woman feel closer to her, but at the same time, reminded her of her dark days on the ship.

She can see the hurt in Yen’s eyes whenever she tenses at her touch, but she knows that the woman understands, is trying to desensitize her. What really helps is knowing that the woman would stop if she really wanted her to, all she has to do is ask, it’s that knowledge that helps her steel herself against the bad memories.

The weather in Novigrad is warm, the light breeze making her curls dance, the dock bustling around them. It’s a controlled chaos, as usual, the salty sea air the last that Laine won’t be exposed to for a long while. She can’t wait for the rotting stink of Velen.

It was bad before the war; she can scarcely imagine what it’s become.

For once in her life, Laine is glad to be on dry land. She didn’t get much of a chance to get onto solid ground when they were in Skellige. That is to say, she didn’t really give herself the chance, shutting herself in her office for almost their entire stay there. 

She sets her feet and sighs, reveling in the feeling of stability below her, she can sense Yen smiling towards her as she does. A habit of the woman, clearly.

She bids her crew farewell and they make their way through winding streets to the opposite side of the city. They’re headed to a set of stables across from a dingy old bar, apparently, they need to collect Geralt’s horse, roach, as well as purchase one for her. Much to her dismay.

she’s walking between Geralt and Yen, who seem to be glaring at people constantly as they move through the city.

“What are you guys doing?” she’s just caught Yen glaring daggers at a human man who’s standing at a street corner with some friends. She looks about ready to go over there but Geralt moves to stop her.

“He’s saying things about you.” She growls.

Laine shrugs, “I know, they all do, I’ve learnt to block it out… Ooh! What’s he saying!?”

She chances a look at the man, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now, probably due to the Witcher and the sorceress looking like they want his head on a pike.

“I’m not going to repeat it, It’s vile!” She looks scandalized, placing an arm over her shoulder, turning her and leading her forward at a faster pace.

The grip on her shoulder makes her scowl involuntarily, but a chastising look from Geralt brings her back to her senses. Right, she’s supposed to be _trying_ , playing nice.

They reach the stables soon after, Yen will be entering their friend’s tavern and taking a portal straight to Kaer Morhen, while Geralt and Laine will be leaving from here on horseback.

Right, horseback, she’d forgotten about that. Put it out of her mind more like. She makes nice with the horse that Geralt is haggling for, she wanted to negotiate, but it’s just a fact of life that an elven woman is going to get duped.

The great Hulking beast that’s standing before her is staring at her accusingly, his soulless black eyes boring into her soul, he knows she has no idea how to ride a horse and he’s making fun of her.

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

The horse stamps his feathered feet as if in agreement, his golden coat is gleaming in the sunlight, clearly, they’re on the same page. It’s a nice-looking horse, far too nice for her to ride, also too big.

She’s having a stand-off with the thing when Yen approaches from the side, “haven’t you ridden before?” she asks gently.

“Where exactly would I have gotten the chance? I didn’t step foot on dry land until I was 15 years old. Not a lot of space to ride a horse on a ship.” She eyes the horse suspiciously. “I’ve done it once, poorly, I was fleeing at the time…”

Yen raises her eyebrows in question, a smirk playing on her lips, Laine just shrugs.

“You’ll have to learn, both of us riding on roach would be uncomfortable, once we get Uma it’ll be impossible. Need to teach you now, I won’t be able to teach you and control Uma at the same time either.” Geralt, as usual, is no nonsense as he makes his way back over.

He hands her back what’s left of her coin purse, paying for her own horse is not something that she’ll budge on, she doesn’t want to owe him or Yennefer anything.

She groans dramatically as she pictures riding three abreast on Geralt’s comparatively small mount, “fine, I’ll learn to ride a stupid horse.”

Yen grins and turns her towards the tavern, “you’re leaving tomorrow, so you’ll have plenty of time to get to know him. But I’m about to leave, so we should have a drink before I go, we won’t see each other for a while.”

The tavern is flamboyant, to say the least, the colors are bright and the women milling around are clad in absurd costumes. The atmosphere is lovely however, the grain of the table wood is expensive, and the barkeeps actually look like their having a good time. Not something you often see in a tavern, though it is relatively early in the evening, too early for the truly drunk to make their appearance.

She’s glad to get a drink, Yen orders an expensive wine, while Laine and Geralt both order ale. Yen’s clear disappointment at her unladylike taste in alcohol is like breath of relief.

She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her; she seems to need to act out like a toddler or she feels like she’s giving in. failing. She puts the conundrum out of her mind as she chugs her ale.

They’re interrupted by a man wearing what looks like an elaborate magenta peacock costume.

“Geralt! Back from the land of cut throats and water rats! Took your damn time! And you’ve brought Yennefer! What’s the word on Ciri? Any sign—”

He cuts himself off as she finishes her ale, clunking the tankard back onto the table, wood meeting wood with an almighty bang.

“Well, _hello there_ , beautiful.” The man leans himself on a chair and she looks up and meets his eyes with her own unimpressed ones.

It doesn’t seem to bother him, clearly this is a man who’s well versed in persuasion, “I didn’t know there was a brand-new patron in my lovely establishment. If I can help you in any way just come and find me… anytime.” He purrs, eyeing her with pure charm in his eyes.

She stares at him in stony disbelief as his hand reaches forward to push a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Dandelion.” Geralt warns, too late as Laine’s hand clamps around the man’s wrist in an iron grip, twisting it so that he yelps.

“If you ever try and touch me again, I will cut this off. And you _won’t_ like where I put it.” She growls, then let’s go, shoving him back several feet.

Yen, to her credit, starts laughing. Dandelion pouts at her, rubbing at his wrist with a wounded look on his face.

“Dandelion, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Elaine.” Yen sounds smug, and oddly proud, Laine is surprised at the warm feeling it fills her with.

“Are you kidding me, your daughter?! Well that certainly explains the hostility!” he seems to harrumph, though he keeps his distance.

Geralt draws him into a conversation then, changing the subject, telling him what they found out about Ciri and what their plans are from here.

Laine, not wishing to pay any more attention to the man then she already has, turns to Yen instead.

“What will you do with your extra time at Kaer Morhen?” she wonders, unsure if the woman truly has things to do there or just doesn’t want to submit herself to the tedium of a long journey.

The woman had offered to bring Laine with her, but her need to honor Odin and keep his things safe is simply too important to her, she should also check on her dingy little home from time to time. To ensure that it’s still standing.

“I need to convene with the Lodge of Sorceresses, as well as prepare to break whatever curse has been placed on Uma. There’s not a lot I can do before I see it, but I can gather ingredients for general curse breaking, do some research so that I may be better prepared.” She seems to think for a moment before she lightly places her hand over Laine’s.

“you’ll listen to Geralt, won’t you? He’ll keep you safe. I trust him with my own life so I must trust him with yours.” She seems apprehensive about bringing this up with her.

Laine plays with her tankard, staring at the table, not meeting the sorceress’s eyes. “I’m the captain of a pirate ship, I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.”

They’re speaking softly, so as to keep the conversation private.

“you’re twenty-three, barely an adult. You’ve taken on the role of a leader, admirably, but you shouldn’t have had to. Geralt has more experience on the road than you and I need you to let him protect you. I can’t lose you to recklessness.”

Her eyes are pleading and her tone is soft, she’s clearly desperate not to start an argument with her shortly fused daughter.

“you’re the authority on the ocean. But the wilderness? that’s Geralt’s bread and butter. Please, just follow his lead.”

“I’m trying… not to be difficult.” Laine extends the same courtesy, extending an olive branch rather than lashing out. She still doesn’t look up.

“No, my love, I just want you to be safe. I’m trying to help you understand that you can rely on people, you can rely on Geralt to keep you safe, and you can trust us both to take the responsibility. It’s no longer something that you must bear alone.”

Laine finally meets her eye and nods, “I’m trying.” She doesn’t know what else to say, so she leaves it at that.

It seems enough, since the sorceress smiles, patting her hand once and pulling away. It’s incredible, she has this way of giving enough comfort without smothering her, it’s like a separate sense that she has.

Night is beginning to fall and Yen stands, gaining the attention of the table’s other occupants, she stands behind Laine and places a hand on her shoulder as she addresses them.

“I should go, it wouldn’t do to show up at Kaer Morhen too late, I’d hate to frighten your brethren. Vesemir is getting to be so old after all.

Geralt laughs, “still spry enough to take down a royal griffin.” He stands to hold Yen, “We’ll meet you soon, keep them in check for me in the meantime?”

She smiles at him lovingly, “don’t make me wait too long, my love. And…” their eyes both dart to look in Laine’s direction and she raises her eyebrows.

Yen is clearly not going to finish the sentence, but Laine doesn’t mind. She looks away, observing the grain of the wood in the table, letting them have their private goodbye.

Yen finishes with Geralt and Laine stands herself, nodding to the older woman who comes and grips her shoulders lightly, looking at her for permission.

She nods and the woman beams, pulling her into a farewell hug, Laine swears that the woman sniffs her hair a little.

Pulling away, Laine gives her a bemused look, “what are you doing?”

“You know” Yen starts, the beginning of a reprimand on her face, “it’s a long journey, a bath wouldn’t kill you.”

“God. Yes, mother! Jeez…” her tone is light and joking, but it causes Yen’s face to light up, which in turn causes Geralt’s eyes to soften.

Yen shakes herself out of the moment, “be good and listen to Geralt, promise me.”

“yeah, yeah, I promise.”

Yen nods, almost to herself, before she fully releases the girl. “see you soon.”

Then she and Geralt head up to the second floor so that the sorceress can safely take a portal. She’s sure that the couple will also take the opportunity to have a proper goodbye.

Laine decides to go and take the chance trying to break the ice with her newly acquired horse. She heads outside and to the stables, finding the massive beast in his stall. He’s looking at her accusingly as she enters and she throws her hands up in response.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore than you do, you know!” she grabs some hay from a pile next to his door and holds it out, keeping her distance.

The animal sniffs at her hand before gingerly taking the hay from it. He seems as unsure as she does, it makes her take a breath for a moment, maybe if she relaxes herself the horse will relax in tandem.

“you’re a big boy, huh? Big as a moose…” she checks his stall for a name comes up with nothing. She turns back to find a black, leathery horse nose directly in her face, she actually laughs as he snorts at her. Her hair flying back at the force of air expelling from his massive nostrils.

“Gross.” It’s said with a smile, he searches her for more hay and she obliges. “So, no name huh, Moose?” he huffs in response and she nods, in agreement. “yeah, sounds good to me too.” She takes a chance, moving to scratch behinds his ears.

“Are you talking to your horse?”

She jumps and whirls around, eyes wide, revealing Dandelion looking at her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“It’s fine, it’s kinda cute, wouldn’t expect the Horsewoman of War’s daughter to be such a softie.” He’s clearly teasing. Though she bristles, not willing to let him believe that she’s some damsel to be smoothed over.

“What are you doing here?!” she scowls at him.

He grins in response, “I was just showing Geralt to his room after his lady love left, he was wondering where you’d wandered off to, I told him I’d look for you.”

“Well” she crosses her arms over her chest and levels him with a look of contempt “You can show me to my room then.”

“Woah, what’s the rush, I must admit that I'm curious. I never knew that Yennefer had a daughter other than Ciri! Maybe we could get to know each other over a drink!?”

She raises an eyebrow, “My, my, you’re awfully brave now that Yen’s gone. You don’t need to know anything about me, bard.” His flamboyant nature as well as him owning a cabaret establishment makes it easy enough for her to discern his profession.

He matches her stance, though his expression is much more lewd, or maybe he’s trying to be charming. Laine can’t quite tell when it comes to men. Either way he seems eager to rise to the challenge.

“You call her Yen, not mother, or mom, so you haven’t known her all your life.” His grin is triumphant.

She blinks in surprise at the level of deduction he shows. She does not, however, appreciate it.

After a short stand-off, she stalks over to him, pulling her dagger out as she gets close.

“Something you should know about me dan-de-lion.” She lets his name play out slowly from her lips as she leans close to him, almost moving close enough to kiss him. He’s backed up now, clearly realizing that he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

“I don’t make threats, I make promises, and the same rules that apply to hands also apply to lips. So tread carefully.” She pitches her voice into the same tone she uses when giving orders, and she sees the colorful man pale slightly.

She slams the dagger into the wall next to his head, careful not to actually hit him, killing one of Geralt’s friends wouldn’t exactly be considered trying to play nice.

“Well you two seem alright in here, I don’t know what Geralt was talking about.”’

The two turn towards the door to see an amused looking dwarf with a mohawk leaning against the doorframe, looking up at them with amusement clear on his face.

Laine leans back, yanking the dagger out of the wall and walking to the door, she’s stopped by the dwarf addressing her.

“I’m Zoltan. You must be Captain Laine, of the Plague Maiden.” She looks down at the dwarf, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I used to play Gwent with your first mate, I just came from a game, I heard.” He’s quiet for a few moments, “sorry, lass.”

She clears her throat a little, “yeah, me too.”

“He thought the world of you, you know, talked about you like you were his own kid.” His voice is gentle, his eyes soft.

She nods, trying her best to keep her emotions in check, “I should get some rest. Nice to meet you.”

As she makes her way back into the tavern, she can hear the pair talking about her, “she’s a pirate?!” Dandelion’s big mouth can’t seem to keep shut.

“A dangerous one, you’re lucky she didn’t aim that dagger straight into yer eye, you little shit!”

As she enters the tavern, she spots a blonde woman leaning against the stairs, who straightens as she notices Laine.

“You must be Laine, Geralt asked me to keep an eye out, didn’t trust Dandelion to actually show you to your room without fucking it up.” She grins and holds a hand out.

Laine shakes it, “Captain Laine, are you the owner of the establishment?”

She laughs at her words, “name’s Priscilla. And actually, that would be Dandelion, I’m just a performer. And a close friend of the owner.”

“Priscilla my love! I was just coming to show the lady to her chambers!” Dandelion himself bursts through the door, with a much more sedate dwarf following.

“Of course you were, well, I’ll take it from here.” She rolls her eyes at Laine, who smirks back in response, and the two make their way up to the second floor.

The woman leads Laine to one of the doors along a long hallway and opens it, motioning for her to enter. Laine however, steps back, motioning for the woman to go ahead first.

She has after all, just spent the last 10 minutes being flirted with by this woman’s lover, friends her ass. She knows better than anyone the wrath of a scorned woman.

Priscilla shrugs and walks in, leaning against a table that’s pushed against the far wall. “don’t let Dandelion get to you, he’s actually quite responsible, when he isn’t being ridiculous.”

Laine nods in acknowledgement and the woman continues, handing her a key. “this is the key to your room; we have an emergency set but it’s locked up tight. Geralt’s right next door, to your left as you leave, if you need anything Dandelion and I stay at the end of the hall. Any friend of Geralt’s is a friend to us.”

She shoots her a friendly smile and Laine feels herself relax, the woman truly seems to want her to be at ease, and she doesn’t seem at all worried that she’s going to steal Dandelion out from under her.

Now, in the light of the candles, she can see faint scars marring the woman’s face. She knows better than to ask, but she can tell that the woman has known suffering, it’s nice that she’s come out of the experience with her kindness so intact.

“Thank you.”

The other woman grins at her, shaking her head as she stands, moving to exit the room. “you have his diction.” She gestures in the general direction of Geralt’s room. “have a good night!” she closes the door behind her and Laine is finally left alone.

She sits on the bed, breathing out and just letting herself exist for a few minutes, truly alone for the first time in a week. Seeing as she’d spent the last half of her trip being doted on by either Grace or Yen, it’s a welcome state, being alone.

She craves her solitude, but she also craves the company of others, now that she’s gotten a taste of true companionship. But she can’t have it both ways, hopefully she’ll be able to bargain for some alone time during this trip, if Geralt deems it safe enough of course.

She drags her tunic over her head gently and turns to examine her almost completely healed wound, the line looks harsh, it runs right through a tattoo on her collarbone. The delicate lines of a sparrow flying across her chest. The effect of the wound actually makes it look like the little bird is being beheaded.

She’s not really one for symbolism, but with all the changes happening around her, it almost feels as though it represents the severing of a connection between her and Reynolds. Like she can start taking herself back.

She knows for sure that it’s not that easy, but she can at least see the scar as a way for her to move forward. But how can she let go almost everything that has happened before now.

She doesn’t remember her time with Yen, to heal she basically needs to throw away everything that makes her who she is, or at least most of it. The sharp anger, her distrust, her sleeping around… well, maybe not the last part.

But her defense mechanisms have no place in the new life she’s crafting for herself.

Can the woman she needs to become to be a decent daughter even exist on a pirate ship? She can never truly give up the sea, not forever, that’s non-negotiable. She loves the feeling of being free, not flying under some monarch, or emperor, or sovereign.

She sighs as she realizes that she could never give up piracy, she hopes that Yen will be able to accept that the life she lives is dangerous, that nothing will change that.

She can’t help but let her mind wander back to Odin. Zoltan knew him, what a small world, even in such a large city, lives connect. She was only a few degrees of separation from Geralt, and therefore Yen, for most of her life. It makes her think of fate, and its role in her life.

Would Odin approve of her actions? Or would he be disappointed?

She’s left the crew to fend for herself, just two months after he berated her for abandoning her crew. Or would he approve of her following the love he always told he she deserved.

She wants to help them find Ciri, and fight whatever is coming for them, she can’t deny that the sense of adventure calls to her.

She changes for sleep and lays down, thinking that at the very least she’ll get to learn how to fight like a Witcher.


	12. chapter 12

The morning finds Laine, standing in front of Moose, trying to keep herself calm. The beast is still looking down at her sceptically.

“Why is he so much bigger than yours!?” she asks Geralt, who’s looking at her with expectation.

“he’s not that much bigger than Roach, he was the best the stableman could sell me.” He assures her, easy for him to say, he’s not elf sized.

Dandelion and Zoltan are lounging on a massive bale of hay, just watching, it makes her grit her teeth. Strangers watching her being inept isn’t exactly one of her favourite things.

“Do you need help getting up?” Dandelion calls out, sounding genuinely curious. Clearly, he has not been briefed on her not knowing how to ride a horse.

“No! I _do not_ need help getting up!” the thought of being lifted into the saddle almost kills her, so she harrumphs and moves to Moose’s side, steeling herself for a few moments.

She takes the opportunity to give his neck a scratch, the massive animal’s head turning to keep an eye on her. She watches as he tilts his massive head slightly as she hits a spot, and smiles, whispering lowly to him, “you’ve gotta work with me here, buddy”

His only response is a light snuffle. She sighs and just decides to get on with it.

Placing one foot in the stirrup like she was shown by Cerys all those years ago, though this animal is much larger than the one she’d spent her time riding with the other woman in Skellige, she then launches herself up and over.

She’s surprised that she actually gets all the way over, but the surprise turns unpleasant when she then she keeps going, it’s only when Geralt rushes over and stops her with his superior reflexes that she stops.

He stands next to her, his hands holding her up, stopping her from falling completely over the horse, an amused glint in his eyes.

She scoffs, “yeah, yeah, thanks.” She readjusts herself so that she’s sitting in the saddle properly.

Moose, to his credit, takes the hiccup surprisingly well.

The next hour is spent with Geralt adjusting her posture to a seemingly insignificant degree, though he assures her that she’ll thank him for it at the end of a full day of riding. She can already feel the burn of her thighs and core muscles as they’re used more than she’s ever had to before.

“Don’t yank so hard on the reigns, he just needs a subtle suggestion, he’ll take it from there.”

“Forgive me for not wanting this bozo to take me wherever he wants.”

“Stop being a brat.”

“I’m not, you’re just being pedantic!”

Needless to say, she’s not the best student, but after a few reminders, she’s feeling more confident in the saddle. He praises her, telling her that she’ll just need to practice, the comfort will come with experience.

She would never admit that his praise makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside, not out loud at least.

Eventually they leave the city, with him still reminding her often to check her posture, stop tensing. She finds the instruction incredibly helpful, even if the constant checking makes her tense, especially after the tenth of so reminder in the first hour.

She growls lowly, unsure at this point how her back can be any straighter, when she spots the Witcher hiding a smirk, which basically translates to a shit-eating grin when it comes to him.

“oh, fuck you.” She throws her hands up and he chuckles, “you’re really just trying to piss me off then.”

“stop thinking so hard, if you’re doing irreparable damage, I’ll let you know. How are you feeling, stable?”

She nods, “relatively, as stable as I can feel on a…” she frowns, “was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”

He hides a grin and she snorts; leaning herself forward to rest her forehead on Moose’s neck. “oh, that’s great, the monster killing machine is telling me dad jokes, what’s next?”

He’s successful in breaking the tension, letting them continue on the path with easy conversation and comfortable silence. The pair are both able to exist for long periods without speaking, fortunate, seeing as their journey is going to be filled with such silences.

They run into no trouble on their first day, and soon they’re setting up camp. They don’t have a tent, so they’re sleeping on the floor, another new experience for Laine.

“Shit, this is gonna kill my back!” She slumps dramatically, ceasing trying to get comfortable on the hard ground, much to Geralt’s annoyance.

“Come and eat” he holds out a stick with roasted venison on it, and she groans as she sits up to grab it from him.

The horses watch the two, tied up in the distance, sedately eating their own dinner.

“You won’t care how hard the ground is once we’re done training anyway.”

she perks up. “we’re training? Tonight?”

She can’t believe that an actual Witcher is going to help her with her swordplay. She can’t wait, digging into the hunk of meat, eager to begin.

It’s nice to be able to eat without Yen’s disapproving looks, she likes eating, it’s an activity that she lends as much enthusiasm to as she does anything else she loves. Geralt doesn’t seem to mind her lack of manners.

She regrets her enthusiasm for training as she slams down into the dirt for the fifteenth time, her aching muscles protesting as she attempts to right herself once more.

“you’re not focusing on my movements, stop thinking so much about what _you’re_ going to do, start watching for what _I’m_ going to do.” Geralt berates her, “you’re thinking so hard about your own actions that you’re practically broadcasting your every move before you actually do it!”

She groans as she finally sits herself up, “how am I supposed to pay attention to your movements _and_ my own?”

He holds a hand out and she grasps it, letting him pull her to her feet, she pauses for a moment to make sure that she’s steady on her feet, when she thinks she’s okay she gives him her full attention.

“Practice. Your movements should be instantaneous, like a reflex. Once you don’t have to think about them, you have more time to react, and you’ll be better prepared. Your fighting style reeks of a lack of formal training. You’re like a wild animal.”

She shoots him with a dead pan look, “thanks.”

He waves her off, “don’t get offended. What was your training like?” he starts positioning her body and showing her some basic motions telling her to repeat them as they’re speaking.

“I would watch the other’s spar, then I would have my turn. No preparation, just thrown into the deep end, ended in a lot of cuts and bruises.” Their eyes are both drawn to the scars that litter her arms.

He shakes his head in disapproval, “you need the foundations before you can be put against an opponent, Ciri didn’t see actual battle until she could fight blindfolded, balancing on a sheer cliff.

She blinks in surprise as she continues going through the motions, “how old was she?” repeating the same motions over and over is boring, but she understands his point about committing the moves to instinct. “ _We’re_ not going to be going that in depth, are we?” the idea of training on a cliff face blindfolded isn’t one that really appeals to her.

He chuckles, “she was 12 at the time” Laine actually stops and stares at him for a moment, he motions for her to continue, “and no, I’m not training you to be a Witcher, most of the things I taught Ciri were foundations, you’ve got enough of one that I can focus on ridding you of bad habits.”

He motions for her to stop and then gets himself into position again, ready to spar with her, she nods and fixes her posture.

“Now, I only want you to use the motions you were just practicing, watch for my movements and react, don’t think too hard about it.”

Needless to say, it goes better, but she still earns a few more bruises by the time she flops onto her thin bedroll.

She’s surprised to find that he was right. After her gruelling training session, the ground is remarkably comfortable, at least she doesn’t notice the gravel and sticks poking into her as she falls asleep almost instantly.

The days and nights continue the same for a while, her body is sore from the constant horse riding and combat training, but she can feel her muscles hardening and changing to adapt to their new normal.

They’re nearing Crow’s Perch, though she learns that he hasn’t actually occupied it for some time now. Geralt tells her the story as she takes over navigation, it turns out that her home isn’t far from the Fortress, nestled in the woods a few miles outside its borders.

“He was just hanging there?” she asks, askance, “Shit.”

He nods solemnly, “he couldn’t live without Anna, he knew that he had driven her to her death, I don’t know if he deserved his fate. But we all decide for ourselves.”

“If he was treating his wife like that, then it was just his actions finally catching up with him.” She nods surely to herself as they make their way through the misty morning fog.

The morning is cold, and the mist snakes its way around the trees, the occasional rabbit streaks through the brush and out of sight as they ride.

“Situations are never that clear cut, but he was a damaged person, he did wrong and he couldn’t live with the consequences.”

They’re spared continuing the conversation as they come across the small cottage they’d been heading for.

Laine draws Moose up closer and dismounts, sighing with relief at finally getting to rest for a moment, Geralt dismounts behind her and they get to work removing the tack from their respective mounts.

She’s found that the process of removing the saddle, cleaning and watering her horse has really endeared her to the animal. She trusts him more when she’s in the saddle, and he seems to know that she cares, she never believed that she could care so much for a horse.

They won’t be travelling any more today, so they can let the horses roam, maybe they’ll eat some of the overgrown foliage that’s gone neglected for so long around her house.

Once the horses are clean and moving freely, they move to the door. Laine starts to pull out her key but stops short, sighing as they see the front door. The house has been broken into.

“Well shit.” She groans in frustration at the paint that mars the surface of the door.

There’s a crude depiction of a goat, and a poorly spelled message calling her a few choice insults, witch and whore, chief among them.

Geralt is frowning when she looks back at him, she just shrugs, “I’m barely here, but even I can’t avoid getting into trouble with the baron’s men.” She shakes her head, a shiver running down her spine, “I’m just glad I wasn’t here when they visited.”

Shaking herself of the image of what could have occurred, she pushes open the ruined door, revealing a surprisingly intact interior.

“Oh, hey! not so bad!” she grins. At a glance, the drawers have been rifled through and the sheets have been removed from the bed, there’s even a rat skeleton on her kitchen table, clearly placed there intentionally. She supposed she was supposed to come back to a putrid, decaying body, but she’s been gone so long that the effect isn’t nearly as terrible. But nothing’s broken, all of her furniture is intact, so she counts it as a win.

Geralt on the other hand, is not impressed, “what do you mean not so bad, this was the Baron’s men?’ his voice is pitched in a low growl. “what the hell kind of trouble did you get into with them?”

She raises her eyebrows at the venom in his tone, “nothing! I went to the crossroads to pick up some supplies and I ran into a few of them.” She crosses her arms over her chest defensively. “you know how they get; they’re bored and they want a warm body, willing or not. I was getting a drink at the bar and one of them decided they wanted to find out what a knife ear felt like. Elves usually stick to the cities, more laws there I supposed, laws that used to protect us. So, there aren’t many of us out here.”

She avoids his eyes, she doesn’t want him to see the fear reflected in hers, she knows that it’s clear as day.

“I tried to leave, once I knew that they noticed me, they’re not used to someone hearing as well as I do. He came over and tried to chat me up, I wasn’t stupid enough to try and scare him, I was outnumbered 10 to one. So, first opportunity I got, I left. Obviously, he followed me… the villagers could see what was happening, they didn’t even think anything of it, maybe they were too scared.”

Geralt’s fists clench in anger, she eyes the floor, still avoiding his eyes.

“Luckily, they underestimated me, the rest didn’t follow. Once I got far enough into the woods, he attacked me, one on one he didn’t stand a chance. The Baron doesn’t exactly recruit the best of the best. My only mistake was leaving him alive; he went back, then they must have figured out where I lived… luckily I was gone by then.”

She shrugs, shaking herself out of the place of terror that she’d just retreated to “It’s fine, I’m just glad they didn’t burn the place down.”

She moves to the rug in the bedroom and rolls it back, revealing her beloved basement, carefully hidden from prying eyes. Lifting the trapdoor, she starts heading down the ladder, stopping when she catches the eye of a livid looking Geralt.

“What?” she looks left and right, searching for the source of the man’s ire.

“Do you have any sense of self-preservation?! You didn’t think to mention that the Baron’s men want you dead, sometime before we headed directly into Crow’s Perch, which is run by the Baron’s men.”

She gives him an incredulous look, “we haven’t been to Crow’s Perch yet. I’m mentioning it now.”

She continues down the stairs, placing her rucksack of things she kept of Odin’s inside a large chest. She takes a cursory glance to make sure that everything else is where she left it and nods in satisfaction, making her way back up to the main part of the house.

“All done! I just have an errand to run, then we can leave in the morning. Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long, I’ll even bring back dinner.”

She grabs a coat and pulls it on, moving to make her way to the door, suddenly she’s stopped short by a hand gripping her hood.

“Where are you going?” Geralt’s gruff voice is clearly displeased.

“What is your problem man!? I have something I gotta do, it’s private, let me go.” He releases his hold on her and she turns to glare at him.

He matches her stance, “you need back up, you’re not going anywhere alone, especially not after what you just told me.”

She groans, two hard headed idiots with intimacy issues, not exactly a match made in heaven.

“I’m just going an hour into the woods, nowhere near Crows Perch, and nowhere near the Baron’s men. I’ll be fine.”

“you don’t know that, Velen is a cesspool of monsters, and ghouls, the Baron’s men are the least of your worries out there.” He clears his throat, “Yen would kill me if I let you wander Velen alone. It’s not happening.”

They stand there, glaring at each other, stuck in a stand-off.

“Fine!”

Geralt nods in approval when she finally breaks first,

“we will travel together, then you will leave me and go hunting for our dinner, _out_ of earshot. Deal?”

He doesn’t look entirely placated, but she knows he’ll respect her wishes, especially once they get there.

They set off together, on foot, in silence. Opting to let the horses rest for the day.

She’s still a little miffed, he’s acting like she’s a little girl. She’s taken care of herself for her whole life, that hasn’t changed because he thinks his girlfriend has some claim on her.

She takes a deep breath in, she can acknowledge that it’s complicated, they’re both facing a situation that they’re not entirely comfortable with, and they’re adjusting.

Whenever they talk about Ciri, it’s clear that Geralt’s the kind of father who’s hands off, he trusts Ciri’s judgement about what she can and cannot handle. But this is different, he’s been tasked with keeping her safe. He’s fighting between giving her the same freedom, the same respect, and keeping his word to Yen.

She however, is fighting her need to be independent, she’s never let someone take care of her before. It’s a reflex to get frustrated when someone tries to control her actions. Even if their intentions are good, even if they’re right, she still wants to lash out.

So they’re both struggling, and they both need to give a little, she hopes they’ll figure it out.

After roughly an hour of walking, mostly in silence, they come across a small cemetery.

She turns and levels him with a look, and he nods, “I’m doing a perimeter check, then I’ll go.”

She nods in thanks, and after a few minutes, he returns. he tells her that it’s clear, that he’ll be a short walk north when she’s finished, then leaves.

She finds herself sitting at the side of a relatively small tombstone, she’d spent a few minutes gathering some wildflowers and bundling them with a vine.

She places the flowers at the foot of the tombstone and just sits for a while.

She doesn’t trust that Geralt has actually left her alone, so she doesn’t speak out loud, but she speaks in her head to person laying beneath the ground.

She spends nearly an hour sitting at the grave of Odin’s daughter, the girl had died years before, and she’d promised to keep her father safe.

She apologises, tells her the story, how she’d killed the men responsible. Just rambles in her brain, talking to her about their adventures, how much the man talked about her.

Her hands need to be moving, so she eventually grabs some of the flowers she’d brought and slowly starts turning them into a flower crown, it keeps her hand busy while her mind is busy.

Once the flower crown is done, she places it so that it sits on the gravestone, then gives one last apology to the girl.

She then spends a short time cleaning the gravesite of weeds and other leaves and dirt that surround it. She knows that Odin would perform maintenance whenever he could. With no gravestone to honour him, though he would never have wanted anything other than a burial at sea, the next best thing is to continue caring for his daughter’s resting place.

Eventually, once afternoon has well and truly hit, she makes her way north, walking for about ten minutes until she finds Geralt. He’s sitting on a rock in the middle of a clearing, seemingly meditating, though he opens his eyes as she approaches. He hands her a large rabbit, keeping hold of one himself and without much more fanfare, they begin walking back to the house. They’re silent as they go, he seems to realise that she would prefer to think, she appreciates his understanding.

With a full cookpot and all her dried spices at home, she thinks maybe she’ll use the rabbits to make a nice stew, use some of the wild potatoes that grow out the back. If the horses haven’t dug them up already.

Even when they get back to the house, he doesn’t ask after the purpose of the journey, who she was visiting. He just holds his hand out for the rabbits, then takes them to the back of the house to skin, she goes in the opposite direction to find firewood.

They’re sitting in silence that evening, stew bubbling over the fire, when she starts talking. She can’t keep living in her own head for much longer or she feels like she’ll explode.

“Ciri’s not your biological daughter.”

It’s not a question, but he nods anyway, one single nod of acknowledgement.

“She’s bound to me, by the law of surprise, we’re connected.”

She nods, she knows of this law, she didn’t know that it could apply to children.

“how did it happen?” she just wants something to fill the silence.

He tells her the story, it’s a long one, and it lasts until they’ve finished eating. It’s fascinating.

“She’s like a daughter to me, I want to see her happy, always.”

Geralt is never more at ease than when he’s talking about Ciri, she makes it a habit to bring the girl up, just to watch his face light up.

He decides to counter her at that moment, “you’re really trying with Yen, thank you. I know you never wanted a mother. She feels about you how I feel about Ciri, how _she_ feels about Ciri. You’re both her daughters, I know how important this is for her, it seems like you know as well.”

She sits in silence for a few moments, trying the find the right words, he seems happy to let her think. She’s full and happy, perhaps more willing to talk about this in her comfortable state.

She stares into the dying fire as she speaks, “Odin was… important to me, like a father. But he was always on the outskirts.” She doesn’t know why this is so hard. “what I see from you, and Yen, how much you _love_ Ciri? That much love, It scares me…”

Geralt seems to study her for a moment, “But you want it.” he makes it sound so simple.

“I don’t know, I used to, when I was a kid. But I’ve built myself around _not_ having it, if I finally get it, who will I be?”

He actually takes his time thinking about it, she’s glad that he doesn’t dismiss her out of hand, she’s almost falling asleep when he answers.

“You are who you are, your past might have shaped you, made you the person you are now. But you don’t have to live there forever. This is good, you deserve to be cared for, Yen had to teach me that too. Accepting love now, it won’t erase the work you’ve already done; you just keep growing.”

The words sink into her, she stews in them a little, “everything’s changed so quickly, I don’t feel like myself.”

He chuckles, “no one’s expecting you to get it together that quickly, these things take time. Yen’s already waited 18 years for you, she’ll wait a little longer.”

She snorts, standing up, “in any case, my existential crisis can wait until Ciri’s out of mortal danger.” She moves into the bedroom and turns back at the last second. “are you sure you’re gonna be okay on the floor?”

The pair had cleaned up a little while their food was cooking, there’s now enough space for Geralt to spread his bedroll on the floor, as well as room for her to lay on her bed.

He waves her off, “I sleep on the floor every night, I’ll be fine.” She nods and closes herself in the bedroom, she contemplates locking the door, but stops herself.

It would probably hurt his feelings, and if he wanted to get in, a lock wouldn’t stop him. She’s slept on the floor of the forest with him five feet away for the last week and a half, there’s just something about a lock on a door that makes her feel safer.

Growing up, locking away other people just wasn’t an option, as soon as she was given that option it became a crutch that she depended on.

She ultimately decides against it, she doesn’t want to undo any breakthroughs they’ve had today, their talk felt too important to cheapen with such a display of distrust.

She changes into some of the sleep clothes she brought with her, anything that was left here has been ripped apart, either by men or moths.

Sitting herself on the bed, she feels a weight lifted off her, finally she’s starting to feel at peace with Odin’s passing.

It’s as she’s falling asleep that she wonders whether Geralt is starting to fill the hole that was left there.


	13. Chapter 13

The pair are approaching Crow’s Perch, their silence friendly, as usual.

The morning had been peaceful as Laine had heated the leftover stew from the night before to serve as breakfast. They weren’t planning on returning to the little house so they’d eaten, companionably chattering about Uma as they did.

“Do you think it’s Ciri?” she’d asked, a mouth full of rabbit.

He’d shrugged, “I’d rather not think about it. I would never want her to be that vulnerable, the thought makes me uneasy. But if it is her, then we’re closer to getting her back than ever. Can’t decide.”

She’d accepted the answer without much more prodding. When they were done eating, she’d prepared her house to be left alone once more, Geralt spent some time scraping the profanities off the door as she did.

Now they’re coming towards the rickety bridge, where several of the Baron’s men, she doesn’t know what else to call them, are standing guard. The term ‘guard’ also being used loosely, as they’re not really paying attention, they finally turn when they’re about a hundred feet away.

She doesn’t recognise any of them, and she can’t tell if they know who she is, they seem to be paying more attention to Geralt than to her.

“Witcher, what business you got here?” one of them ask, generally unfriendly, though that’s nothing new from this lot.

“Need to speak to the sergeant, or whoever’s in charge.” There’s an edge of hostility in his voice, it makes her wonder as to the nature of Geralt’s relationship with the group.

The men seem to falter at the obvious vitriol in the Witcher’s tone, so clearly this isn’t expected, their eyes shift from Geralt to Laine beside him. They look uneasy all of a sudden.

“Sergeant’s up the top.” They step back and let the pair pass, sharing uneasy looks with each other and taking turns studying her. She sits straighter on her horse, troubled at the attention, she would prefer her previous run in with this lot to be left alone.

Geralt is silent as the make their way up, though she can practically feel the tension emanating from him as they ride side by side.

“All good over there chief?” she asks lightly.

She can hear people stopping and staring as they move through the tiny town. It’s the sound of activities stopping, whispers, even snickers.

“Just stay close to me” he grumbles as they move past the populated area and up to the fortress.

She shrugs, she has no intention of wandering here, that would be incredibly stupid of her.

They pass the blacksmith and a third set of gates, seriously, how many dramatic sets of gates does one fortress need?

Laine finds out what Geralt was so tense about when she hears a group of soldiers talking about a farmer’s daughter down in the town that they want to go and visit later on. She almost turns around to kill them on the spot but there’s an iron grip on her arm.

“Don’t.” his voice is pitched low.

“Geralt.” She matches his volume, but the disbelief is palpable in her tone.

“We can’t kill every soldier here.” He says through gritted teeth.

She looks around, there’s close to thirty men just milling around the square, and that’s just outside. There was the same amount down in the town, who knows how many are inside the various buildings, surrounding them.

It’s with begrudging horror that she realises that he’s right, it’s like a shock of cold water down her spine, they’re outnumbered on a ridiculous level. Men look out at them from every corner and crevice of the compound, she can feel their slimy looks surveying her, one man sees her and elbows his friend, the whole group breaking out into chortles.

They dismount their horses and tie them up at a hitching rail in the middle of the square, right under a tree, she guesses it’s the same tree that the baron hung himself from. Good riddance.

She looks around, maybe it’s the clouds in the sky, but this place feels sad. She’s never craved the endless blue of the ocean, the sky above her, the fresh air that comes along with sailing. There’s plenty of filth to be found on a pirate ship, but this place bleeds rot and filth, she wants out.

A soldier approaches them, looking uneasy, he keeps looking at her with anxious eyes. She thinks maybe she recognises him from that night, it was several years ago, but the fear makes it stand out in her brain.

She stands tall, staring at him with distaste, Geralt nods to him in greeting.

“Master Witcher, what can we do for you?” the man has decided to stop looking at her entirely, she lets a smug smile stretch across her face. It’s still satisfying, even if he’s scared of Geralt, not her. If she can make him feel a fraction of the fear that he and his men made her feel that night, it’s worth it.

“looking for the sergeant.” Geralt is still short, though not as short as he was with the men down at the bridge.

“Up in the Baron’s old office. You remember the way?” the man seems even more uneasy at Geralt’s tone, she realizes how well she can read his mood in comparison to others.

Geralt nods in thanks, “how’s your brother?”

The man blinks in surprise, “fully healed, still talks about you to this day!” he grins, more at ease now.

Geralt nods, sending the man a small smile. He starts walking then, moving in the direction of the largest building, throwing a “come on, kid!” behind him as he goes.

Laine shares a look with the guy, raising an eyebrow at him before she follows, his face goes pale.

She catches up to the Witcher and he side eyes her, “was he one of them?”

She looks down and shrugs, “might have been.”

He sighs, “I saved his brother from a fire, he was very respectful towards me after that.”

She nods, “men are often respectful of those more powerful than them. It’s those that are less powerful that suffer.”

“people can have both good and bad inside of them.” They reach a set of stairs and he moves up them ahead of her, turning back he says, “but they’re mostly assholes.”

She laughs as they climb the stairs, reaching the top she says “at least he looked scared shitless when he saw us standing together.”

He chuckles, moving his hand up to ruffle her hair, mussing the curls. She shoves him off her, laughing as she does, there’s a fond smile on his face.

She happens to catch the man they just spoke to standing with a group of soldiers, she’s surprised to recognise most of the men that were present at the tavern that night.

They’re looking up at the pair. A deadly Witcher, goofing off with a woman they almost killed, with horror on their faces. She faintly hears one of the men say, “welp, guess the sergeant’s about to die.”

They enter the building and suddenly it’s close quarters, there are men seated all over the place, some are drinking while others sharpen weapons. Laine feels her ears flatten against the side of her head, her body tense, this is not a situation she would ever willingly put herself in if she could help it.

They make it halfway down the hall when there’s a call of “Geralt!” and suddenly there’s a tiny force slamming into the Witcher’s legs.

Laine pulls out a knife, startled, making several of the surrounding men tense, hands on their weapons. She relaxes as she sees that a little girl is the cause of the fuss, she’s holding onto Geralt and talking a mile a minute, Laine gives a side eye to some of the soldiers before sliding the dagger back into her belt.

“and Geralt! Have you found Ciri yet? I’ve been waiting for her to come back so we can play together, but now the Baron’s gone—“

“woah, woah, slow down Gretka.” He gets down to her level and actually smiles at her, it’s a rare sight, and one that makes her heart actually melt. The other men seem to find it a little disturbing, if their expressions are anything to go by.

Gretka, on the other hand, is beaming. She’s so excited that she’s jumping up and down on the tips of her toes.

“Haven’t found Ciri yet, but we’re getting closer. I brought Ciri’s older sister, though, why don’t you meet her?”

He dodges the issue of the baron’s ‘disappearance’ expertly, speaking to the child as though she were an adult.

The little girl gasps and turns to Laine, launching herself at the elf in a similar manner to the Witcher, she looks up with an excited smile, “you’re Ciri’s sister!?”

It’s then that Geralt’s words catch up to her, leaving her gaping at him in disbelief. He shrugs, grin still firmly planted on his face.

She looks down at the little girl, who’s looking at her like she holds the secrets of the universe, she clears her throat, “uhh, in a manner of speaking.”

Gretka seems to chew on the words, finding them to be a general positive, squeals and jumps up and down, still holding onto her legs.

Its then that a door in front of them slams open and the man she was least hoping to see stands at the threshold.

“what the hell is all the noise out here?!” the man’s scarred face is held in a snarl at the interruption.

She feels her body tense up, her hand moving immediately to hold the girl’s head against her, an impulse to protect coming over her.

Geralt sees the look in her eyes, the fear, she can’t help the emotion from taking hold of her, and stands. He moves to stand in front of her, unfortunately, this draws the man’s attention.

When he sees her, his face darkens, and he starts to step forward. However, whatever look is on Geralt’s face must stop him short, as he turns his attention away from her.

“Master Witcher, what can I do for you.” The words are polite, but the tone is mocking.

“Need to talk to you” he looks back at Laine, she tries to remove the emotion from her face, but it’s not enough to placate Geralt.

“Gretka, why don’t you show Captain Laine where you work?” he speaks directly to the little girl, who jumps up and down and grabs Laine’s hand.

“You’re a captain?! Wow! Of what? You should come and see the kitchens where I help!” she keeps chattering as she leads the elf down the hall and away from the sergeant.

*****

Geralt lets the door close behind him as he follows the sergeant. The man is walking with far more swagger than he deserves to. He feels a surge of pleasure as the context of his wounded face makes itself known.

“What is it that I can do for you exactly?” the man asks haughtily.

“Uma, gonna take him with me.” He decides not to broach the subject of Laine, if the man feels fit to bring it up, he’ll respond in kind.

“I believe that what you meant to say was that you came to ask permission to take him, I’m in charge now, so—”

“not about to _ask_ for anything, I’m telling you. You can try to stop me…” Geralt has no patience for his pig-headed arrogance. “but then I’ll bring your reign to an end, an abrupt and premature end.” He lets true venom seep into his voice, or at least he tries, he supposes it doesn’t translate.

The man scoffs, “you think you got me shakin’ in my boots?”

Geralt turns up the venom, “you sure as hell should be.”

The man smirks then, “careful there Witcher, that girl of yours, pretty young things like that go missing all the time. And I know you’ve got a habit of misplacin’ daughters.”

Geralt steps towards him threateningly, “I’m showing mercy on you, not letting her in here to finish the job she started. Test me and I might invite her in, then you’d really have something to worry about.”

The Sergeant actually reaches down and clutches at his balls, eyes suddenly going wide, he takes a moment before he shakes himself out of it.

Rearranging his face back into a scowl, he looks down, suddenly cowed, “fine, cripples not worth no blood. Stable hand’ll probably be glad to give him up.” He steps back, “pleasant journey to you.”

Geralt steps back also, a self-satisfied smirk on his face, “thank you kindly.”

******

“—and this is where I sleep!” Gretka has shown her every inch of the kitchen, including the filthy corner where she curls up at night.

Laine fakes a smile at the girl, getting down to her level in the same manner that she saw Geralt do, “are you happy here Gretka?”

The girl seems confused at her tone, but nods enthusiastically, “oh yes! I love helping! Even if it’s a bit boring with Ciri _and_ The Baron gone! I wonder when they’ll be back!” she totters off to grab one of her toys, a wooden dog that opens its mouth if you pull on its tail.

“look at this!” she holds it out to Laine, who takes hold of it. The girl seems truly okay, there’s no trauma in her eyes, nothing hiding there. It makes her feel better about leaving her here, still nervous, but better.

“oh, neat!” she pulls the tail a few times, making Gretka giggle. She then stands, making her way to the door and back out into the hallway.

“what’s it like being Ciri’s big sister? You must be even stronger than her! Did you know she fought a werewolf?!”

Laine looks down and smiles at the girl, “I’m sure she’s much stronger than me.”

Their interrupted by the door in front of them slamming open, Geralt exiting, the sergeant is strangely not present.

“C’mon, Laine” he barely spares a glance before he’s out of the door.

She pats Gretka lightly on the head and follows.

“Bye Geralt! Bye Miss Laine!” she’s obviously used to Geralt coming and going abruptly, because she doesn’t seem upset at him leaving without saying goodbye.

Geralt seems to be simmering furiously as they make their way down the stairs, he walks directly up to a man who’s tending the horses. She takes the hint that they should be leaving as efficiently as possible and moves to get their horses ready.

Geralt disappears and she hauls herself on top of Moose, who can sense her discomfort, and is fidgeting along with her.

She’s sitting, ready to depart for a few minutes, she can sense stares coming from all directions. It’s unclear if the attention is on her for malicious reasons, or that these men barely ever have entertainment of any kind, and she and Geralt are the most interesting thing to have happened around here in a long while. She doesn’t care, as long as no one dares approach her.

In any case Geralt appears eventually, his hand gripping the hand of something that she guesses is vaguely shaped like a person.

His back is hunched, he’s shaped like a grotesque oversized baby, suffice it to say that she’s never seen anything like it.

“that’s… Uma?” she asks unsurely as Geralt gets closer.

“the one and only.” He kneels down to the creature’s level as he get to roach’s side “this here’s Roach, she’s gonna take us to Kaer Morhen.”

The creature looks like he’s listening, though whether the words are actually penetrating his mind is another matter entirely.

He lifts Uma into Roaches saddle and gets up behind him, the thing is blabbering incessantly, pointing at things much like a toddler.

It turns to point at her, and she starts, blinking at the thing.

“that’s Laine, she’ll be travelling with us, her horse is named Moose.”

He’s speaking to the thing like it’s coherent, just in case it is, he has a respect for Uma. She’s having a hard time picturing this drooling beast as anything other than a brainless monster.

She supposes there’s a 50% chance that this is Ciri, that Uma deserves to be treated with respect, even if he isn’t.

They set off down the path and out of Crow’s Perch, Geralt seems less tense, especially as they get further from the fortress and the Sergeant.

There’s a commotion as they start moving through the little township, she stops short as she notices the soldiers from earlier, standing outside of a ramshackle house. There’s a man outside, pleading with one of the guards, and screams coming from the open window.

She tenses, Geralt stops with her, a rage coming over him. A surprising amount, in fact.

Without any conversation, he scoops Uma up, dropping him directly onto her horse. She scrambles to steady him as Geralt dismounts, pulling his steel sword out of its sheath and stalking over to the commotion.

She then watches as he speaks to the man guarding the door, the conversation is short, though just out of earshot.

A few moments later, Geralt is standing among six dead bodies, covered in blood. He then wastes no time as he kicks down the door, coming out less than a minute later, even more blood on his armour.

The sight is actually frightening, his expression is so stormy that when he motions for her to pass Uma back, she just shakes her head.

“I’ve got him.” She says softly.

He pauses, making an effort to calm himself, before nodding and mounting Roach. They continue without another word. Uma is babbling excitedly, trying to turn and reach her ears, presumably to pull at them.

They’ve just cleared the bridge and turn to start making their way to Kaer Morhen, when she finally breaks the silence, “So…you get it out of your system?”

There’s a smile in her voice, the sight of Geralt was frightening at the time, but the kindness behind his actions is clear.

“I’ll take Uma when you need a break.” Is his only response.

She doesn’t respond, except for a sharp, “fuck! Uma, No!” as he finally reaches one of her ears and pulls, hard.

****

They’re stopped a few days into their journey by a group of Nilfgaardian soldiers, there are too many to fight. Laine feels herself tense at the sight of the heavily armed men surrounding them aggressively.

She holds Uma closer to her, unsure of their intentions.

Geralt looks back at her and shakes his head subtly, she’s not sure exactly what he’s discouraging her from, but she figures that staying silent is her safest bet.

He turns back to the leader, “what do you want?”

The man looks smug as he looks over her and Geralt, clearly labouring on the delusion that he has the advantage.

If these men didn’t have the entire Nifgaardian army protecting them, she has no doubt that she and Geralt could lay them out with ease, as it happens, they’re not alone.

“The emperor is displeased with you.”

“Then he should have asked somebody else for help.” Geralt’s voice has gone cold, a far cry from the pleasant conversation they’d been having about vampires a few minutes earlier.

“the emperor does not ask anyone for anything. You will ride with us to Vizima.” The man looks at them expectantly.

Geralt twitches in annoyance, but sighs with defeat, “Ella, go ahead, I’ll meet up with you.”

The man waves with an instant dismissal, “your entourage will accompany us.”

He then turns and begins heading back the way they came, clearly expecting them to follow.

She looks to Geralt with question in her eyes and he nods, though he looks uneasy. His use of her old pet name is clearly a warning to her, she’s no longer Captain Laine of The Plague Maiden, and her life may depend on it.

She holds Uma closer, him babbling at her, seemingly no clue of the danger they’re currently in.

They reach Vizima quickly, the tight formation of soldiers around them making her more and more tense as they go.

They dismount and she holds her hand out for Uma to take, the little guy is happy to hold onto her, but he’s stronger than he looks as he pulls her forward slightly to look at a bunch of wildflowers growing in patches around the castle walls.

She’s distracted throughout their journey through the castle, trying to keep Uma on track requires her full attention, she’s grateful for it as it stops her from seeing the Nilfgaardian army that surrounds them.

They reach a door and are stopped by an incredibly posh looking man.

“lovely to see then gentleman again, and lovely to meet his… companions.” He looks down at her and Uma with disdain.

She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, aware that she has dirt all over her from hunting that morning, she’d had to throw herself in the dirt to camouflage herself. She feels a little self-conscious about it now.

“the lady and the gentleman will bow when they meet the emperor, I will not have you embarrass me again.” He maintains an air of calm, though there’s an edge of desperation to his voice. “does the lady need a lesson in the proper form of bowing when meeting an emperor?”

She snickers, earning a look from Geralt, rolling her eyes she addresses the man, “no, I’m good, bowing to emperors is my specialty.”

The man looks at her sceptically, but allows it, opening the door so that they may enter.

There seems to be a strategy meeting going on between the emperor and some kind of general.

“There’s no sign of the missing warship.” The general points to a little figurine of a ship, one of many on the board.

“That idiot, it was probably taken down by pirates, there’s an infestation in those waters.” The Emperor has a booming voice that reeks of a sense of self-importance.

“With all due respect, your grace, a pirate ship is no match for a fully manned warship.” The man sounds entirely bemused at the concept.

Laine feels a smirk come over her face, she’s elbowed by a scowling Geralt, she then makes an effort to hide the expression.

“You underestimate them. Likely the same mistake made by the missing captain himself.” He finishes his statement by lightly pushing the little ship model off the map.

It’s then that the pair catch sight of Geralt and Laine, they turn towards them expectedly, neither Laine or Geralt make any attempt at a bow. Uma is babbling excitedly, as usual, tugging on Laine’s hand as he sees something he wants to play with somewhere in the room.

After an awkward amount of silence, the man who showed them in turns, retreating out of the door with his head in his hands, once again foiled by Geralt’s lack of propriety.

A surprise comes in the form of Yen, walking in from a back room, her eyes lighting in a panic as she spots Laine. It’s there for barely a second before a mask of indifference comes over her.

Geralt moves back, nudging her lightly in a signal to follow suit, Laine makes an effort not to react to seeing Yen. Even though she wants to re connect with the woman.

The emperor doesn’t seem to mind the total lack of pleasantries, “report.” He says shortly.

Geralt motions to Uma, “Ciri, well… this man, is the key to finding her.”

Uma starts to babble even more, a spot of drool falling from him mouth to the carpet. Both Yen and the emperor study him for a moment, distaste clear on their faces.

The emperor seems to take a moment to control his temper, “I give you three solid leads, each as fresh as morning dew. Yet in my daughter’s stead, you bring me this… monstrosity?” he spares a look at Laine then, looking her over, “and the girl?”

Yen shoots Geralt a harsh look of warning over the emperor’s shoulder, though it proves unnecessary, “a mercenary, hired help.”

The emperor nods, not questioning it, Yen relaxes.

“I hope you have more to say, for your sake.”

Geralt bristles, “listen, I’m looking for a needle in a haystack, a needle that at any moment could—”

“it’s a difficult task” the emperor interrupts, “I know this, what of it?”

They begin speaking of their journey so far, with all the time spent with the pair, she’s heard it before. Rather than listening to the stories again, she busies herself with looking about the obscenely decorated room.

It’s dark, though it’s the middle of the day, there are such heavy cloths over the windows that it appears to be night time.

After a short and she’s sure, boring recap, she hears the clearing of a throat. Geralt is motioning her to follow them out of the room, she cringes as she sees the emperor watching her, and hurries to follow Yen through the door.

It’s only once they’re truly alone that Yen even acknowledges her, though she doesn’t speak to her. Instead she berates Geralt while patting Laine down, checking her shoulder and ensuring that she’s in one piece.

“What were you thinking, bringing her here? If the emperor knew that I had a daughter, one that wasn’t also his own, he could use her to keep even tighter control on me. Not to mention what she’s done to the most decorated warship in the emperor’s fleet!”

Geralt scowls, “we didn’t exactly have a choice, I tried, but they insisted she come as well.”

She stops fretting, sighing lightly, “well, I don’t think he suspects” it’s then that she finally acknowledges Laine, “are you alright?”

Laine nods, smiling softly up at Yen. She’s actually glad to see her, even if she needs to get manhandled in the process.

“I’m good, how are you?”

Yen chuckles, “I’m just fine, my love. Now, I can’t bring you all to Kaer Morhen with me, but Laine, I can take you if you’d prefer not to travel. Are you finished with your business?”

She seriously considers it, but decides against it at the last minute.

“yes, but… I couldn’t leave Moose, or Uma. I’ll go with Geralt.”

Yen hides her disappointment well, though it’s present just below the surface.

“Moose?” she seems confused at the name, Laine chuckles, “my horse, I’ve actually grown quite fond of him, Geralt and I are also on a roll with training, wouldn’t want to disrupt the progress…” she pauses, then starts again, “not that I don’t want to, I do, I just—”

Yen laughs, grabbing her face and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “it’s alright, my love, go with Geralt. I’ll see you in a week.”

It’s with a short goodbye to the both of them that she takes a portal straight to Kaer Morhen. That whole thing could have gone a lot worse

The next week is uneventful. They continue their combat training every night, the task becoming less and less punishing as time goes on, she can now reliably take Geralt down at least 10% of the time. Whether he’s allowing this to happen is still up for debate.

Uma has to be tied to a tree whenever they make camp. They’d tried to fight it, seeing as it was entirely dehumanising, but he keeps getting in the way whenever they spar. His obsession with pulling on Laine’s ears also extends to when she’s sleeping.

She’d tried sleeping up in a tree to avoid him maiming her, but after falling from a substantial height twice in a single night, they’d decided that just tying him out of reach was the best option.

Geralt stops in a small town that’s having a werewolf problem and takes on a contract as they travel. Uma is a convenient excuse to keep her out of the action, as he shuts her down when she expresses her interest, stating that someone needs to watch the little guy.

This leaves her sitting in an alleyway, trying to keep out of sight. People are looking at her and Uma with apprehension as they travel through villages, Geralt gets more outright disgust and fear, her smaller frame and Uma’s obvious deformity don’t inspire the same fear response.

There are a few children that keep peeking their heads around the corner to look at her, she’s sitting cross legged on the ground, Uma almost in her lap. She’s trying to distract him with a few flowers that she’s picking, he’s still trying to reach up and touch her face.

He seems to have the same level of development as a toddler, so he’s easily distracted. But after pulling on her ears, receiving violent reactions of pain every time, he’s stopped trying to tug on them. Now, he’s just obsessive about touching them, Laine finds this much more agreeable. Though she’d rather avoid it if she can.

She smiles as the children’s heads peek out once again, only to disappear as they catch her eye, she can’t help but chuckle at their antics.

Suddenly, a little boy is shoved into the open alleyway, looking shell shocked. He stumbles forward slightly, looking nervous, finally coming to a stop a few feet away from them.

Laine smiles kindly at him, holding Uma back from going to make friends, she doesn’t want him to frighten the boy.

“Hi there, what’s your name?” she asks, keeping her voice soft.

He toes at a tuft of grass shyly, “I’m Hans.” There are three more heads still peeking around the corner, rapt at their interaction, probably waiting for their friend to be snapped up by a demon.

“Well Hans, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Laine, and this is Uma.”

Uma pays no attention to the child, he’s deconstructing the flower she’d given him, and seems incredibly busy with the task.

Hans smiles, “It’s nice to meet you.” He parrots back.

The smile seems to prompt the rest of the children to the fact that there’s no danger, as they trip over each other to join their braver friend. Two girls and another boy come and sit around her, the group forming a small circle.

Laine spends the next half hour chatting with the kids, she shows the girls how to make a flower crowns, something they are incredibly excited about. Hans joins in, though the other boy doesn’t seem to be as interested, opting to throw rocks instead.

Uma seems interested in this activity, and the boy ends up showing Uma how. His deformity makes it hard for him to throw straight, but with a bit of practice he seems to be getting the hang of it.

It’s probably bad practice to teach him to throw rocks, but he’s having fun, and she can’t deny that she’s grown fond of the little guy.

Their fun comes to an end however when a woman sprints around the corner, looking frantic, she spots the children huddled around her and screams.

The children jump up, looking guilty. At the same time, a group of men run around the corner after her, faces livid.

The woman runs over and drags Hans away from her, pulling him to the side and checking him over to make sure he’s not hurt, several other women come and do the same thing for their own respective children.

Laine grabs for Uma, making sure he isn’t trampled in the confusion, he seems distressed at all the commotion.

Geralt and an older man, the one who had contracted them in the first place, turn the corner as well.

The kids, who seconds ago were calmly discussing flower crown techniques with her, are now looking at her with fear in their eyes. The men have swords out, reacting to the women’s hysteria, though unsure exactly what prompted it.

Geralt rushes over, standing in front of Laine protectively, face set in a snarl towards the men.

“walk away, or this will end badly for you.” His voice is fire, and enough of a threat by itself that they slowly herd the women and children back towards the centre of the village.

The crowd dissipates, all except for the older man, who throws a coin purse at Geralt. “thank you for your services Witcher, though maybe it’s best if you leave, soon.”

He seems reasonable, Geralt nods shortly in his direction as he catches the coin purse in one hand, then the man walks off without another word.

Once the coast is clear, he turns to look down at Laine.

She’s staring in shock at the ruined flower crowns, trampled under panicked feet, Uma is once again poking at her rigid face.

“we weren’t doing anything, it was fine…” she doesn’t know how the situation got so out of hand so quickly.

“they’re uneducated, it’s not your fault.” Geralt murmurs, holding a hand out to help her up. She obliges.

“those kids weren’t scared of me,”

Geralt nods in understanding, “they will be now, ignorance is taught by the uneducated and small minded.”

She sighs, grabbing Uma’s hand, “can we go, please?”

He nods, opting not to talk about it. They mount up and get out of the village as quickly as possible, angry eyes following them, as if the commotion was their fault.

Laine doesn’t think she likes this side of humanity very much.

They’re camping that night, Geralt mysteriously stating that he’s too tired to train, when he prods her.

“you wanna talk about it?”

She knows that he has experience with the fearmongering of humans, but she just doesn’t want to get into it.

She just shakes her head and turns over to go to sleep.

****

It’s only a few days later that the wilderness gets wilder, and the paths more winding, that they finally reach Kaer Morhen. Laine is astounded by the sheer scale of the fortress, the air is clearer than any she’s had in weeks, the fresh morning breeze is cold against her face.

She’s taking a break from Uma, Geralt is holding him, he seems to have less patience than she does. She gives moose a fond scratch on the neck and a smile, her muscles barely hurt anymore from the constant riding, she’s grown incredibly fond of him and now actually finds riding to be relaxing.

She’s suddenly rocked by an ear-splitting screech. A massive creature flies past them, so close that she can feel the wind pushing her back, her jump pushes her even farther. She falls off of Moose with a thud and a groan of pain when he rears back in fear.

She jumps out of the way just in time as Moose’s hooves slam down exactly where she had fallen moments before.

“Oh fuck!” she whimpers, “what the hell was that?!”

Geralt jumps off of roach, almost forgetting to set Uma down as he does. He catches himself at the last second and sets the little guy down, running to her side and kneeling.

  
“You okay, kid?” he asks, feeling her ribs where she went down. She jolts upwards as her side twinges against the abuse.

“Ah! Okay, can we stop with the poking?” she flops back down and groans, “again, I ask, what the hell was that!?”

“Forktail” he glares towards the fortress, “someone’s been slacking.”

He gets her up carefully and helps her back onto her horse, after he’s calmed him of course, her mount is dazed but steady. She frowns at his vacant stare, she wishes he didn’t have to be calmed with magic, she’ll give him a treat when she gets a chance.

Geralt assures her that Yen will be able to heal her side as soon as they arrive, she waves him off.

She stares at the woods surrounding the fortress as they approach. She’s never seen greens like this, never had the chance. Skellige is a sea faring town, and Velen is a shit hole, other than that she’s only ever been at sea or on the city. If she gets a chance to explore the lush forest, she’ll have to take it.

They finally reach a portcullis, it’s as they’re standing in front of it that it starts to open, revealing the interior of Kaer Morhen.


	14. Chapter 14

The portcullis finally raises to a respectable height and the pair dismount, Laine feels the pain lance through her side as her feet hit the ground, though she works to hide it. there’s a man waiting for them behind the gate, he looks remarkably like Geralt, though his white hair is natural and derived from age.

“Well! Look who the wind blew in! been away quite a while.” The man looks genuinely glad to see Geralt, fatherly affection shining on his face as he approaches.

Geralt meets him halfway, the two clasping forearms tightly, smiles on both their faces.

“I trust your journey was well?”

“Calm, if you don’t count the forktail that flew over our heads a few miles back, startled the honoured guest.”

They turn to Laine, who’s trying to wrestle an unresponsive Moose through the gate to join Roach, who looks right at home. The horse will barely budge.

“Geez, Geralt, turn my horse braindead why don’t you!?” she tries to look the animal in the eye but there’s a haze there.

“He’ll be fine” he clicks his fingers and Moose walks mechanically towards the stables, still in a trancelike state. “It’ll wear off in no time.”

She scrunches her face in displeasure as she moves to stand next to Geralt.

“Ahh, this must be the girl.” Despite his intimidating stature, the man can’t help but exude fatherly vibes, she feels at ease. Even if he has tenure for the most dangerous job in the world and could kill her easily.

“Oof, i’m _a_ girl, I don’t know if I’m _the_ girl. Sounds like a lot of responsibility.” She reaches forward to shake his hand, “Laine.”

He intercepts and she ends up clasping forearms, just like him and Geralt, she takes it as a sign of respect.

“Vesemir. You’re the honoured guest if you can control the strong-willed woman throwing beds off of balconies.”

Geralt looks surprised “shame, that was a good bed.”

“I agree, Triss always said she…ahh, now I see.” The awkwardness is palpable.

Laine snickers, “oh geez, that’s all you big guy.” She pats Geralt on the shoulder and turns to try and corral Uma.

Geralt ignores her, “Yen’s here already?”

Vesemir crosses his arms unhappily, “I understand that she’s an emancipated, strong-willed woman. But do manners count for nothing?” he looks upwards, probably in the direction of the room she’s staying in. “she teleports in, not even a ‘nice to see you’ – jumps right into ‘there’s a curse to lift’ telling everyone what needs to be done, Lambert do this, Eskel, do that, get going! Rearranged one of the guest rooms, saying her daughter was coming to stay and needed only the best!”

Laine cringes as she leads a blabbering Uma back over to the pair by the hand, there’s hay in her hair and she’s covered with mud from the journey. “I don’t need anything; I’ll take a warm corner and a soft surface.”

“Well, I can see that you’re more reasonable than your mother at least.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, the negativity around Yen makes her bristle a little, but it does truly sound like she’s been a nightmare.

It’s then that the attention is turned towards Uma, who’s running laps around her, bumping into her constantly because of his poor coordination.

“Hm. What have we here?” he kneels down and Laine stops him from his spinning, concerned hands holding him to keep him upright, he’s clearly dizzied from his activities.

“Multiple deformities, eyes, ears, nostrils, and a harelip. And is this…” he tries to touch Uma, who starts to panic, turning and accidently smacking Laine in the side, the same side she’d hurt when Moose had thrown her.

She grits her teeth, letting a pained sound escape.

Vesemir takes the hint, “well, Yen was right on one count, it sure isn’t pretty.” He says as he steps back.

Geralt shakes his head, “where is everyone?” he’s eyeing her hand, which is currently clutching at her side from Uma’s hit.

Vesemir looks frustrated again, “Eskel’s hunting forktails. Yen needs to distill their organs, so, two birds with one stone. Lambert is in the keep preparing to travel into the mountains to enrich the phylactery with elemental power.”

“and Yen?” despite his mentor’s displeasure surrounding the sorceress, he’s clearly eager to see her, “Laine took a fall when that forktail came at us, needs some healing magic.”

“Assembling her mega scope, wanted me to run around with some contraption for her, but I’m too old for that.”

Laine finally huffs, “well if anyone actually did the things she was asking for, maybe she wouldn’t be so grumpy” she crosses her arms and levels a glare at the man, “she’s not trying to break this curse for her own benefit is she? She’s trying to help Ciri, something we all want, what you think we’re doing here!?”

With that she turns away from them and starts walking deeper into the fortress, suddenly eager to see Yen after so long., she doesn’t count seeing her in Vizima since things were so tense.

“She’s Yen’s daughter alright, what’s the story there anyway?” she hears the men discussing as she walks off, but doesn’t look back.

She comes to another, much larger courtyard, and approaches an ancient looking fortress. The door looks massive, she starts pushing against it, the screeching that emanates from her efforts is ear-splitting.

She fully opens the door and spots a man, seemingly sharpening a sword, sitting on a box and giving her a look of frustrated confusion.

She blinks in surprise, this must be Lambert, preparing for a journey into the mountains.

They stare at each other in silence for a few long seconds.

“looking for a woman who can throw a bed off a balcony.” She finally decides to break the ice.

He relaxes, laughing a little, pointing behind him, “up the big spiral staircase, can’t miss it, you must be the infamous daughter.”

“Don’t know about all that.” He may know Geralt, but he’s still a stranger.

He shrugs, “maybe now that you’re here she can take that stick out of her ass.”

She bristles, but decides that angering the strange Witcher with a sword isn’t in her best interests. “Alright, see you round.”

He snorts as she passes, “sure thing, kid.”

She tenses, he’s clearly the type of person to needle the people around him unnecessarily, she won’t rise to the bait.

She finds the spiral staircase easily enough and after far too many stairs, comes to a door, it’s the biggest and most impressive so she’s sure that’s where she’s supposed to be headed. She inches it open and peeks in, smiling when she finds a pacing Yennefer.

“Hey, Yen.” There’s a small smile in her voice, though she’s wary of how frustrated the woman seems.

She needn’t worry, Yen turns to her with relief on her face, striding towards her and pulling her into an embrace as soon as she’s through the door.

“Laine, my love, are you well? How was the rest of your journey, all right?” as usual, the woman grasps both sides of her face and checks her over.

“I’m fine, it was good, heard you’ve been having a tough time here.” She levels the sorceress with a sympathetic look.

She purses her lips in response, “Vesemir is supposed to be helping me set up my mega scope but he’s been gone for hours and nothing is happening with the contraption I gave him.”

Laine winces, “he’s down at the stables, I don’t think he’s helping.”

Yen closes her eyes, clearly trying to tamp down her frustration, “right, wonderful.”

“I can help, if you need it.” she stretches, feeling the exhaustion of the journey beginning to hit her.

She shakes her head, “I’ll ask Geralt, I need someone with a Witcher’s senses, and you need to bathe.”

Laine winces as she stretches a sensitive spot in her side.

Yen notices, because of course she does, “you’re hurt!”

Laine shrugs, “I fell off my horse, he got startled by a forktail.”

Yen actually growls, “I told Eskel to take care of the forktails a week ago! Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

“I just got here, Yen, relax.”

The woman gives her a reproachful look, placing her hands over her side and looking to her for confirmation, she nods, suddenly there’s a warmth that comes over her torso. She’s always enjoyed the feeling of magical healing, it’s warm and comforting, she can feel her ribs slotting back into place.

She raises her eyebrows as the door creaks open again, it seems that Geralt is equally as apprehensive about entering as she was, Yen doesn’t acknowledge him right away as she continues the healing spell. Laine can feel even the bumps and bruises she’d retrieved from training slowly receding into nothingness.

“Yen?” his voice is gruff, but apprehensive.

She clears her throat, “Hello Geralt.” Turning to fix him with a glare, “you bring my daughter back to me with broken ribs, have you anything to say for yourself?”

She removes her hands from Laine’s side, and turns to face him fully, almost blocking her from his sight. Which is ridiculous.

“I—uhh, didn’t know?” he sounds sheepish.

Laine sniggers to herself, and walks out from behind the seething woman “I’m fine, no harm done. It wasn’t his fault I can’t stay on my horse.” She walks past Geralt and places a hand on his shoulder, Yen still looks intensely angry, so she supposes she’s angry about more than just her broken ribs. At least if the conversation in the courtyard is anything to go by.

“Thank you for the healing spell Yen, I’m gonna go ask someone where I can clean up, because I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

With that, she pats Geralt’s shoulder and walks directly out of the room, hoping to get out of earshot before the yelling starts.

Either she’s successful or there’s no yelling to be heard because there’s silence until she reaches the bottom floor. She walks out to find Vesemir and Lambert studying Uma, or staring at him as he freaks out. She speed-walks over and kneels at his level.

“Hey, you okay, bud?” She asks him, voice soft and calm.

His only response is to walk forward and reach for her ear, she sways out of the way, “Hey! We don’t pull, remember?”

He lets out a screech, which has the two Witchers behind her backing up, she rolls her eyes. So much for big, bad, monster hunters.

She stands, Uma is calmer now that they’re further away, he doesn’t seem to like strangers.

“Anyway,” She turns to the pair, ignoring as Uma rushes forward to cling onto her legs, “either of you know where I can get a bath?”

Lambert scoffs, “yeah, you’ve got one attached to your room, only the best for the princess I guess.”

She stands tall, despite the fact that the dark haired Witcher is taller than her by a mile, fixing him with a glare. “Do you have some sort of problem with me?”

He matches her glare, “yeah, as a matter of fact, you’re the ankle biter that snooty up there has been making me work my ass off for for a week. I’ll take you to your brand new, clean as a whistle guest bedroom, filled with potpourri and soaps for your fancy ass.”

There’s something about the man that reminds her of being on a pirate ship, she’s loath to let quality banter go to waste.

Laine scoffs, “good to know you take orders from women half your size. I’ll take a cold drink while you’re at it.”

Her smirk is matched by him, he actually chuckles before turning and moving towards the bowels of the fortress, “very well, this way, my lady.”

She laughs as he gives her an exaggerated curtsey, “something tells me you’re the dunce of this operation.”

“Ooh! You’ve got a keen eye.” He shakes his finger at her, sounding impressed.

She shoves him lightly, laughing as he shows her to her room.

Unbeknownst to them, Yen and Geralt are watching from the doorway, they seem to have made up. “Oh, how wonderful…” Yen’s voice is dripping with exasperation and sarcasm, “she gets along with _Lambert_.”

****

Laine is scrubbing weeks’ worth of scum from her skin; the potpourri is nice. So is the soap, it smells like roses. She smirks to herself as she wonders whether Yen ordered it to, or if Lambert took the initiative himself, both are equally as funny as the other.

She can’t help but enjoy the company of the older man, however short their interaction was, someone who she can needle and make fun of. Geralt is far too serious and Yen is a big no on that front. At least not now that she cares enough about her to feel bad for being mean to her.

Yes, Lambert is someone she can have a drink with, she fully plans to utilise that. She hasn’t had a good drink with anyone in a while.

As well as utilizing the woods around the fortress, she’d love to just ride though the dense green foliage, visit the lake and sit in the sun. It might be a good way to pass the time and get some of the solitude she’s been craving. Provided, of course, that the forktail issue is resolved.

She lets herself rest in the warm bath. The rune provided, probably by Yen, keeping the water at the perfect temperature. The room itself is basic, though far more than she ever had on the ship. There’s a vanity, with various powders and bottles of things she’s never seen in her life, she’s gotten by on basic soap and water her whole life and that’s not about to change anytime soon.

Once she feels her skin begin to prune, she lifts herself up and out of the bath, bringing a towel around her, she walks into the room proper. Opening the provided wardrobe, she balks at the various shades or colour and fanciful corsets that hang in the space, all looking far too complicated for her to put on. she eyes her travelling clothes, now clean, which are currently drying by the window.

Groaning, she checks her pack, there are several sets of comfortable clothes, all filthy after the journey. The thought of putting them back on after finally getting clean is painful. She turns back to the closet, determined to find something wearable in there, she finally settles on a white tunic lined with embroidered flowers. There are a nice sturdy pair of boots in there as well, which she pairs with a _very_ tight pair of black pants.

Why Yen provided her these, she’s not sure. But it beats the corsets, dresses, and skirts that are left behind. Looking in the mirror provided, she winces at the flowery and overly nice-looking clothes, she doesn’t hate the way they look on her. But the idea of going into battle wearing such nice clothes makes her cringe. Unexpected battle is a reality of living on a pirate ship, or living in Novigrad, or Velen really. Ah well, she can finish drying her travel clothes and then rotate them like normal.

She makes her way back to the main foyer and hears something like an argument before she gets there.

“She’s rough enough around the edges without _your_ influence!” Yen sounds angry, though she’s keeping her voice down.

Laine knows exactly who she’s talking about and stops to listen, her ears twitch as she settles against the wall right before the door, twitching both in trying to hear better and slight annoyance.

Lambert scoffs, “so what, I get to pick her flowers to make her room nice, clear out the rubble. But I shouldn’t couldn’t possibly try and make friends with her, that would be a tragedy!” he sounds just as frustrated, as though the tension that’s been building up for the entire week between the pair is finally coming to a head.

“I’m attempting to bring about some decorum in her, and I’ll thank you not to _fuck it up_!” Yen’s voice raises as she finishes her sentence.

Laine looks around, but apart from going back to her room, there’s nowhere for her to go.

“fuck…” she doesn’t want to fight with Yen, not so close to their reunion, but they’re getting to know each other and ironing out the kinks is part of it. She just wishes she could take some time to tamp down the frustration that’s resulting from the woman going behind her back to try and control who she’s friends with.

She knows herself. Getting into it with Yen, especially while she’s in this mood, it will bring out the worst in her. She’ll lash out and hit where it hurts, which she’ll inevitably end up regretting.

She could just go back upstairs, but now she’s keyed up, and mad at Yen. She’ll probably go and burn all the dumb, fancy clothes she put in there. She can feel her fists clenching, and she can still hear the two going at it.

“Just _keep_ away from her! She’s mine… I’d like the time to re-connect with her, without your vapid rear-end filling her head with faeces.”

“I just suggested that she might like to join Geralt and I! I don’t even care that much! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

She just decides to ignore them and go for a ride; if she can get past them without exploding. She pushes through the door, trying to act like she hasn’t been listening in, probably failing. She can feel eyes on her.

“Laine…” Yen seems caught off guard by her sudden appearance “uh, you look… nice?” she seems apprehensive. She should be, it’s probably the worst thing she could have said, the words are nice but her delivery was sceptical at best. Lambert and Vesemir both physically turn and look away at the obvious tension that shoots up Laine’s shoulders.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she can feel herself looking for something to hurl back and she actively tamps it down.

Yen steps towards her with arms out, placating, “nothing love, that tunic, it’s supposed to be worn with a corset, that’s all.”

Laine can’t believe she’s picking on her fashion sense right now.

“Well it was the only thing I could find in that wardrobe that wasn’t _entirely_ ridiculous!” she finally raises her voice, she turns and tries to tamp it down, “there’s nothing in there that’s even remotely wearable.”

Yen looks gutted, “well, I can show you—”

“not necessary, my riding clothes will be clean and dry soon and I can wear those.” She shuts the woman down immediately, her voice cold “I’m going to check on Moose.” Laine has done enough damage as it is; she just wants to get out of here before she ruins anything permanently.

She moves to leave but is stopped by Yen’s voice, “You’re not being fair, and you will _not_ walk away from me.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but the effect of her voice is moving, Laine refuses to be cowed.

She turns back to see Vesemir and Lambert are looking between them with palpable dread on their faces “No, Yennefer. You don’t get to swoop in after 18 years and control who I get to make friends with, especially behind my back, especially when I’m here to _try_ and play nice. You’re _not_ my mother, you haven’t earnt that.”

She then strides forward and grabs Lambert by the forearm, dragging him to the door, he sputters in indignation but lets her lead him out of the keep. She doesn’t dare look at Yen’s face, she can feel the heartbreak, it’s demanding to be acknowledged.

She refuses.

She drags Lambert all the way down to the stables, him blabbering at her the whole way down, “don’t bring me into your mommy issues!” and “I’m also not your punching bag, don’t drag me around like a dog!”

She finally turns to him as they arrive and glares at him, “shut up! I’m using you to prove a point!” She paces in front of him, “I really want to kill something right now!”

He chuckles, “nothin’ round here that’s really your speed, tiger.” He sobers, “you wanna talk about it?”

She groans, “No.”

He breathes out dramatically, “oh, thank god.”

She snorts and turns to look at Moose, the horse is staring sedately back at her, though his gaze is warm.

She walks over and pulls him into a hug, “glad you’re back with us, bud,” she feels him tug lightly at her hair and smiles, feeling the tension leech out of her.

“Moose is a dumb name for a horse.” Lambert tells her as he leans next to her on the stall divider.

“you’re a dumb name for a horse.”

“ooh, good one.”

She turns to him, she still feels tense, she’d love some sparring to distract her right about now.

“Where’s Geralt?”

He looks surprised, “he’s helping that dodo Eskel hunt forktails, god knows he hasn’t been able to do it on his own.”

She groans, then has a thought, “you wanna spar?”

He laughs out loud, “No! No, I do not.”

She feels herself pout, “Aw, why not, scared I’ll kick your ass?”

He scoffs, “cute, really… but no, I don’t really want to beat the shit out of you, and Yen would probably puree me.”

She groans, “I’m not that helpless you know, I’ve been fighting my whole life! And Geralt’s been teaching me. Come on! I’m frustrated and I need a distraction, or I’ll go back in there and be an ass again, and no one wants that!”

He seems to think on it for a moment, before groaning and moving towards a bunch of wooden practice swords

“Yes!” her face lights up as she takes the sword that he hands her, she and Geralt would use sticks to hit each other, this is much better.

The two of them begin circling each other, “okay, so that I can figure out your skill level, I want you to come at me.”

He’s much more serious now that they’re sparring, she goes for him, trying to use the techniques that Geralt showed her.

She slams into the ground, Lambert on top of her, wooden sword at her neck. He’s noticeably not putting all of his weight on her, which she appreciates. “rule number one, have a plan, kid!”

She shoves him off and he goes easily, she lifts herself up, groaning. “yeah, so apparently Geralt has been going easy on me.”

“He’s gotta break you down before he can build you back up, what was your plan there, talk me through it.”

“He’s trying to teach me to pay attention to what my opponents doing, but we hadn’t started yet, so I needed to get you moving.”

“Right, well against a truly skilled opponent, going in without a plan is going to get you killed. Instantly.”

He’s a much harsher instructor than Geralt ever was, he isn’t shy about telling her why she’s on the ground, eating dirt. It’s helpful, it might be fucked up, but this kind of harsh training is far more like her old training as a scared kid on a pirate ship.

She gets instant feedback and he’s not holding himself back, so she knows exactly where she’s going wrong.

After what feels like the 80th time she’s been pinned, they get back into position and begin circling.

She eyes his movements and finds his gait is slower when using his left leg, she zeroes in on it and lets a small grin show on her face.

He’s trying to bait her, she knows his leg is fine, she wants him to think she’s taken the bait.

She then goes directly to the left, getting herself behind him and using his weight to slam him onto the ground.

He groans underneath her and she lets out a ‘whoo!’ throwing her arms up in triumph.

Its then that she hears a slow clap and finds Geralt and another man, presumably Eskel, leaning against the gates and watching them.

“Geralt!” the distraction has worked, she even forgets to feel sheepish about how she treated Yen, she’s sure Geralt will be furious with her once he hears.

“This is Yen’s kid? Not exactly what I expected.” Eskel is grinning, as much as he can be considering the claw marks marring his face, his tone suggests that it’s a complement. “she’s a little more…”

“Elven, then you imagined?” she asks, her own tone matching his humour.

Suddenly she’s flipped and slammed into the ground by Lambert, once again.

“Rule number twenty-five, don’t ever take your eyes off your opponent.” There’s a smile in Lambert’s voice and, again, he moves off of her at the slightest prompting.

“You are _such_ an asshole!” she grabs a handful of dirt and throws it in his direction, he’s laughing, half-heartedly holding a hand up to protect himself from her attack.

Eskel continues their previous conversation, “I was actually gonna say ‘rough around the edges’.”

She laughs and accepts Lamberts hand, letting him pull her up.

“I can see you two are getting along, Yen know about this?” Geralt doesn’t seem angry, it’s clear he cares about and trusts his brothers, sure that Lambert wouldn’t actually hurt her.

She shrugs and looks away, grabbing a handful of hay and walking over to Moose to distract herself, she swears she sees Lambert shaking his head subtly at Geralt.

“Laine...” he sounds disappointed; which fucking sucks.

“Lay off man, it was a justified disagreement. She just needed a distraction.” Lambert is actually defending her; she feels a sense of appreciation well up in her gut.

It’s starting to turn late afternoon, and Lambert and Geralt have a task to get to, so she gives them a hasty goodbye. Half trying to avoid Geralt’s disappointment, half trying to avoid the happy feelings she’s getting from Lambert.

She makes her way back to the keep, thankful that Eskel stays behind to properly clean and put his equipment away, she’s sure that would be an awkward conversation. ‘Hey stranger, you having mom, not-mom, problems? I kill monsters for a living, maybe I can help!’

She’s thankful that there’s no sign of Yen when she enters the foyer. Vesemir is kneeling and examining Uma, either ignoring her, or too focused on his task to hear her. He’s keeping his distance, which seems to be placating Uma for now.

There’s also no sign of Yen when she makes it up to her room. As she predicted, she feels terrible about the disagreement, but she’s not really in the headspace to hash it out right now. She pulls off her now filthy tunic, pulling the wardrobe open to find something to wear.

She feels her heart drop to the bottom of her feet.

It’s full of totally different clothes, all in her style, her travelling gear fully dried and hung up among them.


	15. Chapter 15

Laine stands outside the door of Yennefer’s room, now much more apprehensive, she’d gotten some sleep and the next morning had come far too early.

She’d walked out into the foyer to find Geralt and Lambert had just arrived back from their task, conjoining of the sphincters or whatever. The pair look tired but companionable. She avoids Geralt’s eyes when he approaches her, tensing up when he places a hand on her shoulder, he sighs at her caginess.

“hey, don’t worry about it, she’ll get over it.”

She blinks in surprise, finally giving him her full attention, there’s much less anger directed at her than she was expecting.

“Lambert told me what happened… she shouldn’t have tried to control you like that.”

She places her face in her hands, “I shouldn’t have said what I said, I was trying to get outside before my temper got the best of me but she just…”

“Yeah, she can’t let things go.” He pats her on the shoulder, “Lambert’s a good guy, rough around the edges, you two have a lot in common. and he thinks you’re a riot. When I told him you were a pirate, that you’d taken down a Nilfgaardian warship? His face lit up.”

She laughs, face still hidden, “Shit. She replaced all of those ridiculous clothes. I feel like an ass.”

He shrugs, “She can’t change you or control you, even if she is your mother. Just go and talk to her, be nice, but stand your ground.”

She’s now standing at the door, stalling, she clenches her fists. She’s much calmer now, this is how she would have originally wanted to feel when confronting Yen about this, but the damage has been done and now she has to fix it.

She has no clue what the woman’s demeanor is going to be like when she knocks, Geralt hasn’t gone to see her yet so she can’t get any tips from him.

She bites the bullet and just knocks, there’s a pause before a composed, “enter.”

She peeks her head in to find Yen sitting at a vanity, she’s in a silky dressing gown and her face looks apprehensive in the mirror, staring back at her through the reflection.

Laine, averts her eyes and steps through the door, taking the time to close it behind her.

“hey,” she starts, cringing at the awkwardness, “i—uh, just wanted to—”

Yen softens instantly when faced with her uncertainty, it’s clear that she was expecting a fiery angry encounter, not a meek and awkward kid.

“No, let me go first… I’ve asked a lot of you, and you’ve been incredibly accommodating. Putting your life on hold, helping us find Ciri when you don’t know me very well, simply on the faith of my word.” She sits against the vanity, looking at Laine with sorrow in her eyes.

“I’ve not been so accommodating, I’ve spent so much of my time with you projecting on you what I thought my daughter ought to be, I’ve failed to see that you’re a fully formed adult. I should be proud of the way you’ve clicked with Lambert, even if I find him… distasteful. It is jealousy, I fear that you get along with him far more easily than you ever have with me.”

Laine is gob smacked, her mouth almost hanging open in surprise.

“Those clothes, I admit, I had planned to try and mold you into someone more… refined. But you’ve given so much, I see now that i need to give a little as well, I’ll try harder. I love you, your dress sense, drinking, and decorum included. If that’s you, then I love you with those aspects in mind. I am proud to call you my daughter, and I _will_ earn the right to call you that, if you’ll let me.”

She finishes her speech and Laine takes a few seconds to process everything, she lets out a shaky breath, she’d come in here expecting to fight for her rights. God knows she’ll never let another mother figure control her like Reynolds, she hadn’t expected this kind of compromise, or even a full-on surrender.

She wrings her hands, Yen’s eyes zeroing in on the movement, and clears her throat.

“Uhh, thank you, for saying that… but…” Yen’s eyes dim slightly at the ‘but’ and Laine rushes to reassure her.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You worked hard to make me feel comfortable here. I was just so angry that you were going behind my back to control me like that. I… have anger issues, I know this, and I try to control it… but sometimes they get the best of me.” She lets a grin show a little on her face, “I’m pretty sure there’s enough of me to go around, we can spend some time together, I swear.”

She approaches Yen, pulling her into an uncertain embrace, the woman responds in kind. The arms wrapped around her are warm and reassuring.

There’s a knock at the door and the two detach, turning to the still closed door.

“All done in there?” Geralt’s bemused tone leeches any remaining tension out of the room.

Yen laughs, “as if you weren’t listening the whole time.”

He peeks his head in and smiles at the sight of the two women embracing. “knew you two could do it.”

He enters the room properly and Laine extracts herself from Yen’s embrace, straightening and smiling back at the Witcher.

Yen crosses her arms over her chest, “how did it go?” she asks, her face soft as she looks at her lover.

He pulls out the phylactery and hands it to her, “no problems.”

She nods and takes it, putting it on the vanity behind her, “thank you Geralt, I doubt they would have gotten those tasks done without your prompting.”

Laine inches her way out of the room to give the pair some privacy, sharing a nod with Yen as the door close, finally feeling at peace.

She watches a hand grab at the stick she’s holding, harshly yanking her bread out of the fire.

“Hey!” she turns to find Lambert glaring at her.

“do you know how long it took me to bake that bread this morning? What the hell are you doing to it!?”

She turns and looks at the charred lump on the end of her stick, “oh…” she must have left it in the fire too long. “the ship cook used to make me this amazing cooked bread thing for breakfast, she showed me how once but I mustn’t have been listening.”

He scoffs, sitting next to her, “Bread _is_ cooked! That’s the whole point. Well, unlucky for you, you only get one loaf. You used it.”

He sounds chastising, but halfway through watching her eat her sad and lonely egg breakfast, he rips his loaf in half and places one of the halves on her plate.

She feels a smile tug at the corner of her mouth but doesn’t comment on it, neither does he.

“That’s genius.” Eskel compliments her as she finishes telling the story of their defeat against the Nifgaardian warship, “and then you have the gall to waltz in front of the emperor.”

She swallows her ale, letting out a sharp laugh, “the one thing you can count on about honorable men is that they’re always honorable. That and they’ll never expect their fellow men to be dishonorable.”

The table, save for Yen, lets out a roar of laughter. It’s close to midnight, and they’ve been swapping stories of great battles, the Witcher’s of epic monster hunts and Laine of the high seas.

“Yes, well as much as I’d love to continue bolstering your ego, we’ve a big day tomorrow and should get some rest.” Yen’s voice is teasing, it’s clear that she was enjoying Laine’s theatrical retelling, especially when she described Yen herself holding the entire ship up single-handedly with awe in her voice.

Lambert looks up at her, drink clearly beginning to hinder him, “you gonna tell us what the hell you’re planning to do with Uma anyway?”

Laine’s interest is piqued at Lambert’s question, she wants to know exactly what’s going to happen if Vesemir’s trip with Uma doesn’t work.

Yen shakes a finger at him, “I said I’d tell you tomorrow.”

Eskel chimes in, “it’s after midnight, so tell us now.”

Yen sends Laine a side-glance that makes her uneasy, before speaking.

“I’ll subject him to the Trial of Grasses. But only—”

There’s an uproar from the whole table, Lambert standing, the bench behind him scraping back loudly as he does.

“You’ll fucking what?!” the violent reaction is startling to Laine, she has no idea what this Trial even is, she feels a tinge of unease.

Eskel scoffs, calmer than his friend “what, looking to turn him into a witcher?”

Yen shakes her head, “of course not. As I was about to say, I’ll only apply the first half of the trial, because—”

“Because you want to watch him suffer!?” Lambert’s voice is filled with disgust as he sits back down, hard, grabbing his tankard roughly and taking a long drink. His gaze is filled with a venom, he’s not needling for fun anymore, this is really affecting him.

Laine’s heart clenches; Uma is going to suffer.

“Stop interrupting. Or I will watch _you_ suffer.” She chastises, shooting looks at Laine, but not commenting on her horror-stricken face.

“In order to restore Uma to his former appearance, we must first…hmm… how do I explain it.” Her voice has gone softer now, she’s appealing to their sense, “imagine a lump of clay. In order to shape it, you must first moisten it, or it will crumble. The trial’s initial part does just that. It opens the body to change, so to speak. Only then can the mutagens produce a witcher.”

Geralt looks resigned, as if this plot makes sense to him, “What are the chances Uma will survive?”

“Not great. But we’ve no choice.”

Laine doesn’t even react, Yen doesn’t even sound that guilty about it, she’s resigned but it’s just a fact of life in her mind.

The rest of them are seemingly convinced as well, “unless Vesemir can do the trick with his Hemlock.”

“You’d be surprised, the old man knows his stuff.” Eskel agrees, though he too sounds resigned to Uma’s fate.

Laine can’t keep her mouth shut anymore, “you lot cannot be serious!?”

Yen sighs, as though she knew that someone was going to be difficult. It may as well be her, who’s always difficult, she’s just staying on brand.

“Elaine, love—”

“No! he’s a person, not a lump of clay!” Her breath is coming faster now.

She thinks on how Uma had learnt to throw rocks with that boy, before they’d been discovered, how she could tell he was having fun. How he would then spend hours throwing rocks while they camped, looking to her to see if she was paying attention. “there have to be options you haven’t considered! What if that’s Ciri, you’re just gonna take the option that could likely kill her?!”

“Laine,” Yen has turned placating, though it’s colder than usual, a chill in the air. “we can speak of this in private.”

She stands, draining the rest of her ale, “fine, lets go talk, because that’s gonna solve anything.” She punctuates her sentence by slamming the tankard down and pushing away from the table.

She stalks in the direction of the room that Yen has claimed as her own, but Yen turns and steers her towards her own room, she’d wanted to avoid that in case she needed to escape.

“don’t stay up too late” she calls back to the rest of them, mostly Geralt.

Yen is staring at her; she can feel it. She’s sitting at the broad windowsill and she can feel the rage bashing against her brain, begging to make itself known, it’s a wonder that she hasn’t started hurling abuse already.

“talk to me.” there’s minimal emotion in Yen’s voice, Laine’s obviously made her angry, good. Maybe now she’ll rescind her offer of motherhood, Laine can go back to the sea, and the world will make sense again.

“I’m waiting for you to justify yourself.” Is Laine’s only answer.

“You accuse me of caring so little for Ciri; think that I would not explore every option before settling on one so dangerous?”

Laine stands and comes to face Yen, fists clenched in anger, “why do you get to choose for everyone else?”

“since I am the only sorceress here, and since Ciri is my daughter.”

Laine can’t think of anything else to justify her rage, her breath shakes and she moves back over to the window, sitting and facing outwards and into the cool night air. There’s a surge of exhaustion that pulls at her, the drink she’d spent the night consuming finally taking its toll on her.

There’s a sigh, and she hears Yen’s voice, much closer now. “you care for Uma.” It’s not a question, but it begs an answer anyway.

Laine wrings her hands, a nervous gesture that she’s never participated in in all her life.

“I can’t lose someone else. I’m barely recovering from the last time.” She closes her eyes as she admits it.

Yen sits next to her, though she faces inwards so as to see her daughter’s face, “Geralt told me about your errand, he said you spent close to an hour, sitting by an unmarked grave.” Her tone has softened.

Laine scoffs, “of course he couldn’t just leave me be, even when I asked.”

She shakes her head, “he stayed away as you requested, what else could you have been doing in a graveyard for that long?”

“Making Odin’s daughter a flower crown, apologizing to her, for getting her father killed after I promised to keep him safe.”

She’s silent for a few moments, “it wasn’t your fault.” She finally says, her tone sympathetic but unyielding. “it wasn’t your responsibility, there were bad men on your ship.”

“That I hired! Four men died under my watch that night!”

Yen places a hand on her daughter’s, eyes full of determination, “you are not responsible for the actions of others, just as you’re not responsible for Uma.”

Laine turns her hand and grasps Yen’s back, a show of solidarity, “I still care about him.” They’re no longer fighting, their tones have plateaued, finding a happy middle. Laine is proud of them for working out a disagreement without storming off or screaming.

Yen smiles, “you’ll be a great big sister to Ciri.”

Laine snorts, “Why do people keep saying that? I’ve never been a good influence on anyone, I’m not fit for it.”

“you don’t have to be a good influence to be a good sister.”

“what if we just don’t get on?”

Yen seems overjoyed that she’s not arguing on the sister front, “I’m your mother, I’ll make you.”

Laine snorts and turns, resting her head on Yen’s shoulder, it’s the second time she’s ever initiated contact. Yen is very still, but Laine’s giggles seem to slowly break the ice as she begins to giggle along with her.

“you don’t have to be there; you can stay away while we do it.” She’s pulling Laine’s hair behind to run her fingers through it lovingly. Laine closes her eyes, letting the bad memories from her past fill her. She takes a deep breath, acknowledges them, then sends them on their way, this feels nice and she won’t let her past ruin this moment.

Yen seems to sense her unease and pauses, but Laine shakes her head, “that felt nice, keep going.” A few moments later, the hand resumes its ministrations.

“I think I want to be there; I want to be there for him… even if it works and I don’t recognize him after.”

She feels a breath on the back of her neck, “you’ll lose him either way.”

She nods once in acknowledgement.

“I’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, I know, it’s ridiculous.”

“no, it’s not, but it is necessary.”

They spend the next couple of hours murmuring softly to each other, sharing words and stories in the dark. Eventually Yen leaves, citing that she has to make sure that Geralt hasn’t sauced himself blind drunk, Laine laughs lightly. She’s already half asleep, she feels a soft kiss on her forehead, followed by a door shutting softly before she descends into nothing.

*****

Laine shushes a screaming Uma as he’s strapped down to an ancient looking table. It’s time to start the trial, she can feel herself wincing at every shriek, the process hasn’t even begun yet.

Yen looks down at her as she finally lets him go, fully strapped down, there’s no need to restrain him any longer.

Yen’s eyes are full of sympathy, “go, you’re not needed and its not something you need to see.”

Laine looks at Uma’s panicked eyes, they don’t connect to her, don’t connect to anything at all. The panic is so guttural that he probably has no idea she’s even there, she doesn’t even know if he would care.

She shakes her head, “I’ll stay, it wouldn’t be fair to leave.”

Yen’s brow crumples, “it’s not your responsibility, love.”

Laine looks up at her, “I can’t just turn my back on him for my own comfort.” She’s staring at the floor, uncomfortable with her own insecurity and also wanting to avoid a fight.

Yen nods; her eyes shining with support and understanding. Geralt comes over with the potions that they’ll be injecting into Uma and Laine tries to hold his hand, though he squirms and makes it difficult, he just can’t seem to calm down.

What follows is a short but brutal process of injecting substances into the screaming creature on the table. Truly a creature more than a man at this point, the bloodcurdling screams echo off the walls, making the whole process even more horrible and hard to ignore.

It only takes Laine fifteen minutes to run from the room, face green, she then spends another fifteen throwing up in some bushes. No one comes to comfort her; there are far more important things at stake here.

When she finally expels the last of her breakfast, she stumbles back into the main foyer, shakily and paler than before.

The worst seems to be over, Uma is still, scarily so.

“is he…?” she trails off as she catches sight of Geralt and Eskel cleaning the floor, the stench of sick much more putrid than her own when it’s in an enclosed space. She then notices that the same sick is all over Yen.

“He’s fine” Lambert assures her as she grabs a sponge and begins to clean Yen’s dress, the woman smiles down at her softly but distractedly, clearly trying to concentrate on the spell. “for now.”

She nods and rinses out the sponge; ensuring that all traces of sick are gone, then sits next to Lambert to wait it out.

It’s hours later when Yen’s eyes are beginning to slowly droop, with Geralt attentively and softly keeping her from falling into slumber, that Uma starts to stir. Laine shoots up from her place leaning on Lambert’s shoulder, her movement incidentally waking him as well, the two of them sharing confused and embarrassed looks at their sleeping positions.

As soon as Uma starts to make noises of pain, Yen is awake, chanting the words to spell. Laine’s at a loss to what they could mean, but they seem to be causing Uma some distress.

Eventually she stops chanting, and Uma’s body goes slack, his mumblings fading as his body stills.

“No…” Laine can’t help but let the protest escape her as she looks at the Witchers surrounding her, they’re sharing knowing and disappointed glances, Yen’s eyes are darting over the body.

“No.. NO! I won’t let you!” an anguished voice escapes her and she moves forward, magic forgotten as she slams her fists down on Uma’s lifeless chest.

“Geralt! Yellow flask, in my satchel!”

Whatever is in the flask must not be necessary any longer, as Vesemir pushes forward, “listen!”

There’s a whisper, an entirely different voice coming from Uma’s body, Yen begins to repeat the language, glowing with magical energy.

“Geralt, the phylactery!” the man opens the device, and Laine watches as the spell seems to move from Uma to the box. 

The whole process seems to work as magically, Uma’s body melts away, leaving a bare elven man laying on the table.

Laine blinks in surprise; the tension in the air melting away as the whole ordeal comes to an end, a new goal in place.

“where is Ciri?” Yen demands.

It’s not that Laine doesn’t care, it’s more that she’s tired, and sad. She needs to get out of this stuffy room, she can feel several sets of eyes on her as she leaves, but she doesn’t care to find out whose.

She makes her way out of the keep, into the blistering afternoon sun, flopping herself gently onto the dirty stone floor.

She tries to make sense of the myriad of emotions running through her, this is clearly Ciri’s elven friend that Geralt and Yen had been seeing traces of throughout their search. It makes sense that Uma was always trying to yank at her ears, he was trying to tell them who he was, or maybe she’s giving him more credit than he’s owed.

Thinking of Uma makes her sad again, and she lets out a sigh of frustration, it’s then that a shadow stands over her.

Opening her eyes, she comes face to face with a towering Lambert, he’s standing over her with a concerned expression on his scarred face.

“throwing another tantrum?” he asks, though she can tell that he’s just as tired as she is.

She shakes her head as he sits next to her prone form, elbow hooked over his knee, eyes searching.

“just deflating. I’m actually sad to see Uma go, can you believe that?” she chuckles, propping herself up on her elbows so that they can have a proper discussion.

“you travelled with him for a good chunk of time, not the craziest thing in the world.” He replies.

She lets herself bask in the sunlight for a while, it’s warm, but comfortable. “does he know where she is?” she asks conversationally, but they both know the questions is the furthest thing from casual as they can get.

This is the culmination of weeks, months, of effort. If this has all been for naught, then there’s no more breadcrumbs to follow, they’re back to square one.

Before Lambert can answer her, the doors slam open, Geralt bounding out and barely giving them a glance and a ‘see ya, kid!’ before he’s out and moving towards the stables.

“Yeah, we got her, Geralt’s obviously eager. Will probably be back in a month or so… if it goes well.”

Laine nods, the final tension finally leaving her, a sigh of contentment on her lips.

With the adrenaline of the day wearing off, it feels like she could sleep for a thousand years.


End file.
